


Our Beginning

by ohstars



Series: 'Til the End of the Line [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1920s, 1930s, 1940s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Backstory, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Canon Compliant, Canon Related, Canon Temporary Character Death, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Complete, Domestic Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Eventual Relationships, Fluff, Getting Together, Headcanon, M/M, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Teen Romance, Teenagers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, World War II, a lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 167,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6777244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohstars/pseuds/ohstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the twentieth century, this is the story of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Before they became Captain America and the Winter Solider. Before the war. Before the world put all of its weight on their shoulders. </p><p>Just two kids trying to get by in the world, and falling in love along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> First of all I’d like to thank you for reading/opening this book.   
> Second, I have been dying to write this story for a long time. I’ve been thinking it over, planning, and writing the beginning again and again. I’ve finally gotten to a point where I feel like I can comfortably write this story now and finish my Destiel fanfiction. Until the summer, however, updates may be scarce or they could be frequent, it all depends on my homework/stress levels.  
> Third, I have two books planned. Both will be created in the canon MCU timeline and will use characters, storylines, and facts from the movies while adding my headcanons and other fandom headcanons, into what I believe is a probable storyline for Captain Steven Grant Rogers and Sergeant James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes.  
> I hope you give this book a chance, and more importantly love it. I love feedback and ideas, so if you have a headcanon/idea for the story feel free to PM me with it.  
> I’d like to take a moment and remind you that the characters in this book are not mine and I do not own them. However, some characters are created by me for the advancement of the story. I’d also like to give credit for anyone who has created the headcanons I’m using for some of the book’s moments. (You can probably find most in my pinterest board titled “‘Til the End of the Line.”)  
> Thank you again for reading.

_Prologue_

 

**2013**

Captain America fought hard, like always, until the Winter Soldier attacked Black Widow. Then he fought harder. He sprang from behind the SUV and charged towards the assassin, his shield in hand. The man moved, his gun lowering as Steve launched himself at him. The Winter Soldier’s metal left arm collided with the vibranium shield, sending vibrations through both men. Steve pushed against him with all his might only to be kicked off the hood of the vehicle the Winter Soldier was standing on.

He fell back, crouching behind his shield for a moment. The assassin fired at him a few times before the man moved. Steve rolled out the way and behind another vehicle. The Winter Soldier shot after him, the bullets bouncing off Cap’s shield like ping pong balls.

He moved with the accuracy of an experienced soldier, his body countering the assassin’s moves with ease. When the masked man ran out of bullets, Steve catapulted over the vehicle and kicked the gun out of the assassin’s hand.

The Winter Soldier pulled out a handgun, firing just as quick as he did before. Steve swung at the man, countering the assassin’s moves with his shield. Their bodies moved together as if they’d been trained by the same teacher and know the same moves.

At some point, the Winter Soldier grabbed Steve’s shield and flipped him over, taking the shield into his own hands. Steve guarded himself and countered the man as much as he could, but he wasn’t strong enough to stay put when the metal fist punched him square in the chest. He fell back, sliding just a little, and stared up at the Winter Soldier who now wielded Steve’s only weapon. Steve charged again at full speed. The Winter Soldier threw the shield into a van behind Steve, just barely missing him thanks to Steve’s reflexes.

The fight wasn’t over yet. The assassin pulled out a knife and the hand-to-hand combat started again. Steve did his best, dodging the knife and the fists. The man gave it his all, too, swinging and stabbing the air with enough force to kill a regular human in one blow. Good thing Steve’s not just anyone. He spun around into a roundhouse kick, sending the Winter Solider back into the van. This wasn’t a defense fight anymore, not for Steve anyway.

Once again, Steve charged again, but this time toward a stunned assassin. He jumped up, kicking the man back and breaking the glass in the window. The Winter Soldier was back into action, swinging at Steve as if he hadn’t just been thrown into a vehicle. Steve grabbed his arms, flipping him over and slamming him into the asphalt.

The Winter Soldier popped back up and his metal arm reached out to grab Steve’s throat. ‘This guy is relentless,’ Steve thought, as he tried his best to get his hand away from his neck. The Winter Soldier’s arm started to hum and the next thing Steve knew, he was being flung backward.

He tumbled over a vehicle and landed on his front. Steve took a moment to try to catch his breath, but he could hear the Winter Soldier jumping onto the hood of the car. He braced himself, moving just as he heard the creak of the car when the assassin jumped off. Steve rolled away just as the metal fist came in contact with the road.

Steve jumped up and the fighting continued. The Winter Soldier slammed Steve into a van and pulled out a knife again. Cap tried to get back into action, but a foot collided with his chest, pressing him back into the van. The assassin stabbed at Steve, but the super soldier caught his hand. Steve guided it into the van, but the Winter Soldier wasn’t having it. He tried his best to put the knife into Steve, only to slice through the metal of the van as Steve walked him away.

The fight was back in Steve’s control when he flipped the assassin over and grabbed his shield. The Winter Soldier tried to stab the blonde man a time or two until Steve hit the knife away. ‘He’s a good fighter, though, I’ll give him that,’ Steve couldn’t help but think as he took a punch.

It wasn’t until Steve wedged the shield in between the metal plating that the Winter Soldier seemed to weaken. Cap pressed down hard before he swung the shield up, the shield and the assassin’s skull colliding with a thud. Steve spun around, grabbed the soldier’s mask and flipped him.

The mask fell to the ground as the assassin rolled down the road.

The assassin stood and balanced himself again.

Steve watched cautiously, a sliver of himself eager to see the man’s face. He was trying to catch his breath, just a little, and get ready for more fighting if the assassin attacked again.

And then the Winter Soldier moved, revealing his face.

His long, dark hair draped the sides of his face. His chin and jawline were layered in a thin layer of scruff. His blue eyes glared at his target.

Steve straightened up. He was stunned, frozen in place. His body felt heavy and his chest ached. He couldn’t believe his eyes. It had to be a trick, another illusion his mind was playing. The PTSD must be getting worse, his grief affecting him again. It couldn’t be. . . There was no plausible way it could be. . .

Yet he couldn’t stop himself from hoping that it wasn’t a dream. Or a simple mind trick. Rather, that the assassin, the Winter Soldier, was indeed the man he revealed himself to be.

Their eyes were locked and somehow part of Steve knew this wasn’t a trick, that this was actually him. Steve felt his breathing pick up, his heart beating faster than it has in seventy years. He couldn’t stop himself, even if part of him knew it wasn’t real.

‘Rogers, knock it off. You’ve got a country to protect and an enemy to fight.’ Steve couldn’t stop staring, even if the Winter Soldier’s eyes only grew colder. There was something about them that seemed so familiar. ‘You’re Captain America, for crying out loud! You can’t let this. . . this trick affect you! Pull yourself together. And take. Him. Down!’

Yet he heard himself call out to the man. . .

“Bucky?” He tried.

Only a second passed, but Steve felt eternity weighing on his shoulders. As if all the years he missed were coming back all at once, full force.

The Winter Soldier looked panicked as he turned towards Steve. “Who the hell is Bucky?” He demanded as he started to advance.

Steve felt like crying because that wasn’t a stranger’s voice. That was Bucky’s. This wasn’t a dream, it was real. He wasn’t losing his mind or experiencing some twisted nightmare. This was real in some weird, unexpected turn of events. Bucky Barnes was standing before him, alive and. . .

And he didn’t know who he was. He didn’t know Steve. He was an assassin, not the man who had grown up with him. This wasn’t the Bucky he remembers.

What had happened to him? Who destroyed him?

Steve couldn’t bring himself to move when he saw Bucky advance with a gun. If it wasn’t for Sam flying in and kicking the Winter Soldier out of the way, Steve would have a bullet buried into his chest.

He was still frozen when Bucky got back up. Their eyes connected again and Steve noticed the panicked look in his eyes. He was frightened and upset, just as much as Steve was. Yet, he didn’t understand. Steve’s chest ached for the man.

Steve finally moved when Bucky suddenly pulled a gun on him again. He ducked, just in time for a grenade to fly over his head and blow up a truck, and essentially the Winter Soldier. Steve glanced back at Natasha, his eyes frightened and his heartbroken. He was in so much pain. . .  
He watched the truck again, searching for his friend. ‘Where the hell is he?’ Steve felt a lump in his throat, pressure building up behind his eyes as he willed the tears away. He couldn’t cry, he was Captain America for crying out loud.

Steve didn’t move.

The military surrounded him.

He didn’t move.

They pointed guns at him.

He didn’t move.

A helicopter flew overhead, followed by the clicking of guns and the stomping of boots.

He fell to his knees and raised his hands over his head. He was numb, he could barely hear the events around him.

Agent Rumlow cuffed him, mumbling something about not shooting him here.

Steve was frozen, his chest aching and his mind thinking of the same thing he always thought about.

Bucky.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Steve sat on his cot after everything was planned. He should be resting before he needed to fight again. But he couldn’t bring himself to sleep knowing Bucky was out there.

So he grabbed the sketchbook, the one Steve had gotten on his tenth birthday as a present from Bucky. The one he carried with him everywhere just ‘cause it was small enough to fit in his pocket. He drew in it whenever he got the chance all those years ago, right up until it was full. No one was allowed to look into those pages, to see what went on inside Steve’s head. Not even Bucky, although he had tried to at first.

The leather was fading and the pages had yellowed and frayed, especially the random pieces of paper he had stuck in for safekeeping. He opened it up to see the first sketch, an almost perfect sketch of Bucky reading. He flipped a couple pages and opened one of the folded pieces of paper he’d stuck in, a very poorly drawn image of Bucky punching a boy, who’s name Steve couldn’t remember, on the very first day they met. He flipped through it again and landed on one of the later pages, where Bucky was drawn beaming at Steve as they waited in line for a ride at Coney Island.

Steve smiled softly, his brain slowly going from the panic and worry that had filled his mind with nostalgia and memories. He laid down, the sketchbook tucked in his arms, glanced up at the ceiling and allowed himself to reminisce.

It only lasted for a moment, before Steve suddenly sat back up. A sense of purpose coursed through his veins, the sudden need to work driving him crazy in a split second. He shot up from the bed and grabbed a composition book that he carried to take notes in for missions. Steve quickly flipped through the pages to make sure each page was clean and crisp before he grabbed a pencil and returned to his bed.

This would work. This would help him remember. He’d figure out the rest later, he just needed to get it all down.

He’d have to thank Natasha and Clint later for making him watch that film. . . At the time, he thought it hit too close to home, with Peggy in a home with Alzheimer's and all. But now, with a panic need to make Bucky remember him, Steve couldn’t help but thank them both, and Nicholas Sparks, for the movie.

Steve got to work, writing it all down. Every last detail.

And one day, when the battle with Hydra was over for good and Bucky was free from whatever hold he was in, he’d give him this book and pray that it worked. That he’d remember.

He just needed it to.

He wasn’t taking no for an answer either.


	2. 1924

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the year 1924 when Steve first meets Bucky on the playground at school.

_Chapter One_

 

**1924**

Steve was in the first grade when he first met Bucky. He was outside, sitting on a bench and watching the other students in his class play. Steve wasn’t allowed to play, he gets sick too often. His teacher had once told his mother that his asthma was just too risky to let him play with the others. So he would sit on the bench and watch. Sometimes if he had a cold or the weather was just a little too nippy, the teacher would let him go to the nurse's clinic and draw. He really liked to draw. The nurse’s wall was covered in his drawings, and occasionally another student’s, but Steve’s pictures showed the most. They were well done, for a six-year-old, and usually brightly colored so “they could make the other kids feel better.” Bright colors, Steve had concluded, made anyone feel better.

There was a substitute teacher today and she didn’t allow Steve to stay inside, but Steve didn’t mind. The crisp September air was just warm enough for him to breathe without feeling like an asthma attack was close. Steve loved these days, the ones where he wasn’t wheezing constantly but it was still kinda chilly outside.

Nobody bothered Steve usually, except for the occasional confrontation between one of the other boys and him. He didn’t like most of the kids in his class, they were really mean, especially to the girls. He tried to make them stop, but that usually ended up with Steve getting hit or in trouble.

Today was one of Steve’s good days when the boys were nicer to the girls and he didn’t feel like he needed to stop them. So he just sat there, his feet dangling off the bench, and watched the other kids laugh and play.

However, something unusual happened a few minutes after recess had started. The second graders came out of the school building and started to play. Steve thought this was weird since they usually have recess alone, but he didn’t mind watching the older kids play too.

At least he didn’t until an older boy started to tease him. “Look at the baby, sitting all by himself. He’s too tiny to play with the big kids!” He snickered, his friends laughing with him. Steve tried his best to ignore the boy, his head turned pointedly towards a group of giggling girls chasing after a boy named Tommy. “Look, the baby wants to play! Aww too bad he’s too short!” The boy shouted at Steve, followed by his friends laughing even harder.

Steve tried his best to ignore them as they continued to tease him, but when the boy took a step forward and pushed Steve off the bench, he had enough. He stood up, his legs shaking and his hands clenched into fists and glared at the boys. “That’s not very nice,” he scolded them.

The older boy laughed and walked closer. “Aww, the baby’s getting mad! Look, fellas, the baby’s upset!” Steve didn’t like the way the other boys started to chant the word ‘baby’ at him. “Say something, baby!” The older boy ordered, pushing Steve back again.

Bucky was playing tag with the other boys and girls when he saw Paul push the small, blond first-grader down. He stopped playing and marched over to Paul with an angry look on his face. “What are you doing, Paul?” he demanded. “What’d the kid ever do to you?”

“He’s a baby, that’s what!” Steve got back up and pushed Paul back.

“I am not!” Bucky had to admit, the kid had guts. Paul was easily twenty pounds heavier than the kid and a couple inches taller. In fact, Bucky noticed, the boy was the smallest kid on the playground. With a glare, Bucky crossed his arms. He didn’t like that Paul thought he had the authority to pick on the kid. It’s not his fault he’s small.

Paul went to punch the kid, but Bucky got in the way. Bucky stumbled back with the hit, almost pushing the kid down. “Why’d you do that?” Paul crossed his arms, his friends watching curiously from behind him. Bucky turned to make sure the kid was okay before he turned and swung at Paul. He fell back, his nose bleeding down his face. “Ow!” He hollered before he started to cry, his friends accusing Bucky immediately and running to get their teacher. Paul followed them, holding his nose.

Bucky turned to the kid, who was looking to his feet. “I didn’t need your help,” he mumbled. He looked up at Bucky cautiously.

Steve knew the kid, not his name but he knew him. He’d see him outside playing in the street all the time with all the other kids. Steve had drawn him a time or two before, but he didn’t like how they looked so he threw them out.

“I know,” Bucky said, a smile spreading across his face. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes,” he said matter-of-factly, “but you can call me Bucky.” His hand shot out towards the boy, his face eager and excited. Bucky had a good feeling about being this kid’s friend, he just needed to know his name.

Steve took Bucky’s hand, the size difference a little drastic. “I’m Steve,” he told him. Bucky gave a few good pumps of his hand, enough to make Steve stumble before he let go. He had to make a note to go easy with Steve, that he was a lot smaller than himself and he didn’t want to hurt him. He seemed too nice.

“Why aren’t you playing?”

“I’m too sick.” A blush crept up Steve’s face, his cheeks, neck, and ears turning a light shade of pink.  
“How sick?” Bucky felt bad that he couldn’t play, that wasn’t fair.

“I have trouble breathing. ‘Specially when I play.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. . .”

“Well, what do ya do then?”

“I sit and watch. Or draw. I like to draw.” Steve’s blush was starting to fade, a small, shy smile had appeared on his face.

“You can draw? Can I see?” Steve nodded excitedly until he had to stop because he had gotten dizzy. Bucky grabbed his arm, helping him stand as he started to stumble. He helped him sit down and just as he was about to ask if he was okay, his teacher appeared with an angry look.

“James, why did you hit Paul? You know it’s not nice to hit your friends,” she scolded.

Bucky stomped his foot and glared at her. “He’s not my friend and he hit me first!”

“That’s no excuse. Let’s go, I need to call your parents and you aren’t allowed to play outside anymore.” The teacher grabbed his arm and started off to the school building.

Bucky resisted, trying to escape. When he realized he couldn’t, he turned around and looked to a pouting Steve. He felt really bad for leaving him behind, so he yelled, “I’ll see you later Steve!”

Steve was stunned, not only that the boy wanted to see him again, but that the boy didn’t seem to think of him as. . . well, weak and unworthy. He seemed to treat Steve like any other kid on the playground.

The rest of the day, Steve ignored the bullies. Nothing they could say could ruin his day.

~*~*~*~*~

Steve watched the kids play lazily in the street, his eyes drooping just a bit. His little body ached and shivered underneath his blanket. He had a cold, again.

His mother was at work, but the lady who lived upstairs, Miss Walker, was watching him like always. “Steve, you want to try and eat something?” she asked, moving to stand behind him. “You haven’t eaten much today. Maybe you should try and eat. I can warm you up some soup or get a few crackers or you to nibble on.”

“No ma’am,” he told her quietly. She nodded and returned to her book as she sat down in the kitchen.

Steve wanted to play, he really did, but his body wasn’t strong enough to play with the older kids. So he opted to watch from the window of his home instead. Steve hated it, the idea that he was always left out, forced to watch from the outskirts. He hadn’t really been outside since he met Bucky, which made Steve even sadder. It’s not like he saw Bucky on the playground in the past few weeks, but the idea that he missed his opportunity to have a friend hurts more than not being allowed to play.

And then, as if by magic, Steve noticed something. The group of children in the streets had stopped playing for just a moment and gathered around newcomers. Steve watched closely, trying to make sure it was who he thought it was before he made any conclusions.

He could have sworn he saw him. He was standing with three other boys, all with dark hair and pale skin. Steve went into a coughing fit, his body shaking to the point he couldn’t breathe. There were tears in his eyes and he was starting to wheeze. Miss Walker brought over a glass of water and forced him to take a sip. As she rubbed his back, Steve glanced back down to the street at the boys playing tag. He noticed Bucky again, but this time it wasn’t Bucky. His hair was too dark and his nose too long, plus he had green eyes. Bucky had blue eyes.

Steve sighed and let Miss Walker lay him down on the couch. “Your fever is coming back, Steve,” she mumbled. “Sit tight, I’m going to see if I can bring it down.” Miss Walker rushed back to the kitchen. Steve was tired of being sick, and just tired period if he’s quite honest.

Miss Walker laid a wet rag on his forehead when a knock on the door sounded. She huffed and mumbled under her breath as she made her way to the door. Steve watched curiously, trying to figure out who could be behind the door. He could hear Miss Walker speaking softly, in the same voice she talks to him in and could see her shadow was bent down a little. Steve’s mind was too cloudy to try and think of an explanation on who it could be.

The door shut and Steve could hear the sounds of someone taking off their shoes. “Well, that’s very polite of you!” Miss Walker cooed. “Steve’s never had guests before, I’m sure he’ll appreciate you stopping by.” Steve was confused. Who could possibly want to see him? “He’s right in here,” she said.

And then Bucky was in the doorway, followed by Miss Walker. He was standing there in his knee-length trousers and his button up shirt, with his hair slicked down. “Hey Steve, remember me?”

Steve nodded slowly, his jaw open in shock. And then it hit him. Bucky came to visit him! He wanted to be friends! He wasn’t lying! He felt a giant smile spread across his face, and he sat up so Bucky could sit with him. “Hiya Bucky!”  
Miss Walker was shocked, she’d never seen Steve so happy. “I’ll go get you, boys, some snacks, would you like that?” The boys nodded, which made her even happier. Steve was going to eat something, he had a friend over, he had a friend, and he was happy. Miss Walker beamed at the two, clasping her hands together. “Then I’ll be right back. Steve, keep the rag on your forehead please,” she mentioned before walking into the kitchen.

Steve pressed the rag to his forehead, a blush forming on his flushed face. “I can’t play,” Steve said.

“I know.”

“Then why are you here?” Steve asked before he realized how rude that sounded. “Not that I don’t want you to be here, I just don’t want you to get sick.”

“I’ll be okay.” Bucky sat at Steve’s feet, his knees pulled to his chest. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Better right now,” Steve mumbled.

“I saw you in the window. Been looking for you at school all week. Where ya been?”

“It was too cold for me to play outside. I was in the clinic with the nurse drawing.”

“You draw? Are you any good?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said with a shrug.

“Can I see?”

“Sure.” Steve pointed over to his book bag that had all of his classwork in it. Miss Walker had helped him study earlier that day since he missed school Friday. “I have drawings in my bag. You can look through it.”

Bucky hopped up and walked over to the bag. He rummaged through it for a moment before pulling out a drawing of the nurse. “This is really good!” Bucky held it up, a gleam in his blue eyes. He genuinely thought it was good, despite it being drawn by a six-year-old and him having no clue what good art skills looked like.

If he’s quite honest, Bucky was amazed at the little guy. He’d been excited to see him again for the past two weeks, but every time he went out for recess, Steve wasn’t there. Bucky wondered if Steve got in trouble, too, for a little bit, but he and Paul were back at school so why wasn’t Steve? Now he feels bad for not trying harder to find the small blonde.

Bucky gently puts the picture back and sat back down. “What do you do around here?” He was looking around the living room, glancing at the paintings on the walls.

“Nothing. Sometimes I sit in the window and watch everyone play,” Steve mumbled. He looked weak and in pain, with his eyes red and his nose pink.

Bucky nodded, a wave of embarrassment washing over him. It wasn’t exactly fair that he could play outside and Steve couldn’t. He’d have to change that. Maybe not soon, since the weather was getting colder, but one day he would.

He was thankful, though, for being able to play outside. If he hadn’t, then he wouldn’t have followed his cousins to the street over where Steve lived. And then he wouldn’t have seen Steve sitting in the window, and he wouldn’t be sitting with him.

Miss Walker brought in their snacks, a few Oreos and a bowl of soup, and set down the tray on the coffee table in front of the boys. “I hate to give you soup, Steve, but you need it. It’ll make you feel better.”

Steve sat up and sighed. He hated soup, but he knew it’d be better than medicine. Bucky watched him take a bite. He felt like eating the Oreos in front of him would be rude, so he asked if Miss Walker could fix him some ‘cause it smelled yummy. She caught on pretty quick, a hand touching her chest lightly as she nodded.

“Wanna play a board game or something after we eat?” Bucky asked after Miss Walker placed a bowl in front of him - he made sure to say thank you, too.

Steve nodded with a big ol’ grin. “You’d really play with me?”

“That’s why I’m here isn’t it?” Steve laughed before he went into a coughing fit. Bucky tried not to frown when he reached over and rubbed Steve’s back.

The two boys finished their bowls of soup and Bucky pulled out Steve’s old checkerboard. He set it up in front of Steve on the coffee table and the two played for hours. It wasn’t until Bucky’s cousin, Theodore, came knocking on the door that they even realized it was almost time for dinner.

“I can come back tomorrow after church if you want company,” Bucky told him as he started to clean up for them.

Steve was all smiles, trying his best to help clean up despite his weak, aching body. “I’d like that. Then you can meet my Mama,” Steve told him.

Bucky grinned. “Then you better expect me right after lunch! Be ready to get your butt kicked in checkers.” The two boys laughed again before Bucky raced off back home and Steve snuggled back into the couch.

Steve was happier than he’d been in a long time.

~*~*~*~*~

The next few months went by easily. The boys hung out at every opportunity and Bucky had become protective of Steve.

It was from Bucky that Steve learned how to be adventurous and carefree. It was Bucky who taught Steve that he could still play despite his size and health. It was Bucky who made him feel happy and normal, even though he was always held up with a cold or the flu.

It was from Steve that Bucky learned how to look out for someone, which made him a better big brother to Rebecca. It was Steve who taught Bucky you don’t have to be moving and playing to have a good time. It was Steve who taught him to appreciate what he’d be blessed with, like the ability to run without dealing with asthma attacks or chest pains.

They’d only known each other for three months and they already couldn’t see themselves without one another. Their friendship had a strong foundation and that’s all that mattered.


	3. 1925

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve's friendship is just starting to grow.

_Chapter Two_

**1925**

March 10, 1925, came around quicker than expected for Bucky Barnes. The morning of, his mother woke him up with the promise of a special birthday, blueberry pancakes and a new baseball glove wrapped with a bow on top. “You and your cousins can play after school if you want. I figured we’d celebrate on Saturday,” she told him as she sat down beside him on his bed.

Bucky marveled at the glove, grinning like a maniac. “Thanks, Mama, it’s really cool! I needed a new glove,” he told her. He hugged her quickly, but carefully, and tried it on. “I can teach Steve now!” He said suddenly, his face bright with excitement. “I can give ‘em my old glove since it’s too small for me and he’ll probably fit it now! I’ll have this one and we can play with the other kids!” Bucky bounced up from his bed, moving to get dressed in his school uniform.

Winifred Barnes laughed to herself, a hand on her four-month belly. “You better get your teaching skills in check, you might have a baby brother on the way. He’ll need a good big brother to look after him.” She stood up again and told him to meet her downstairs when he was dressed for school.

Bucky beamed. He was super excited to potentially have a baby brother. Rebecca was nice and all, but a brother could play with him and Steve. He’d make sure he was safe, too, like he looks after Steve and Becky.

He ran downstairs and into the kitchen, to find a plate of pancakes, his sister eating, and his father reading the paper. “Morning Jimmy, happy birthday son,” his father, George, said over his paper. Bucky thanked him quietly, still confused why his father insisted on calling him, James or Jimmy. He liked Bucky just fine, especially since his little sister gave it to him years before.

She was at the stage where she could just start forming sentences, but still had trouble with words. Bucky had just started school and had learned how to write and read his full name. He told everyone he saw on the way home and when he sat down to play with Becky, he told her too. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes, did you know that?”

Rebecca looked up at her brother with curious eyes and shook her head. “Jay Bu-. . . bu-” her eyebrows scrunched in concentration as she tried desperately to pronounce his name. Finally, she got out “Bucky Bawnes,” and a proud look on her face. He loved the name Bucky and it stuck.

As he sat down for his breakfast meal that morning, he started to shovel bites of pancake into his mouth. Becky reached over and gave him a flower from Momma’s garden out back. “Happy birthday, Bubba!” she giggled, with her mouth full.

“Thanks, Becky,” Bucky told her as he gently took the flower and sat it in front of him.

He ate as quickly as he could and once his dish was cleaned, he was finally allowed to leave the house. Bucky ran down the block, crossing his street and bounding onto Steve’s. The past five months, the two have fallen into a pattern of walking to school together. It made Mrs. Rogers feel ten times better knowing Steve wasn’t walking alone anymore, so he made sure to be there early every day.

He walked into the building quietly, the floorboards creaking underneath his boots. He traveled upstairs and counted the doors silently until he reached the Rogers’. Two knocks and the door opened with Mrs. Rogers and Steve standing with big smiles on their faces. “Happy birthday Bucky!” they cheered in unison.

Bucky’s face lit up and he laughed. He hugged and thanked them both before Mrs. Rogers ushered the boys into the kitchen. She gave him a cupcake and a kiss on the cheek, before moving over to help Steve with his shoes. “I got a new glove,” Bucky told them as he munched on his cupcake.

Steve was amazed at the idea of being able to play baseball, he loved the sport and knew his dad did too. It made him feel closer to him, even though they never met. So he was really excited when Bucky said he’d teach Steve to play one day. Mrs. Rogers wasn’t as thrilled, saying that his asthma and heart palpitations are too risky. “One day, you two will be able to play together like normal boys and girls. I’m sure of it,” she told the boys with a smile. “Why don’t you get Bucky’s birthday present, Stevie?”

Steve’s blonde head nodded excitedly before he rushed off to grab a small box wrapped in newspaper. “I hope you like it,” he mumbled. Steve stood before Bucky with his hands behind his back and his eyes watching intently as Bucky opened the box. A blush crept up his neck and set his ears on fire as he watched.

Bucky had never seen Steve this shy and self-conscious, not since they first met at least and even then he wasn’t this bad. He reminded himself to be kind no matter what’s inside the box. He pulled off the lid and pulled out a piece of paper and a baseball. “This is pretty cool!” He gushed, tossing the ball up gently. Then he flipped over the paper to see a crude drawing of the two of them. It was really good, Bucky noticed and looked like Steve really tried to get the picture as close to perfect as he could.

“Wow, Steve, this is incredible!” Bucky held up the picture and looked it over really closely. He genuinely loved the picture and the thoughtfulness behind it. “Thank you, Steve, I love it.” He sat the picture back into the box carefully and squeezed the boy tightly, or as tight as he could without him wheezing up a storm.

“Anything for my best friend,” Steve said quietly.

~*~*~*~

Steve chased after Bucky, laughing as his feet stomped along the street. Bucky would look back every now and then, his grin wide and spotted with missing teeth.

“C’mon Stevie!” Bucky called.

Steve moved faster, his lungs wheezing. He wasn’t supposed to exercise too much, not with his conditions, but Bucky wanted to go get milkshakes at the drugstore and Steve thought it’d be a great idea. So they ran along. Now Steve really needed a break, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to go to the drugstore and he wanted to play with Bucky. More importantly, Bucky wanted him to play. He couldn’t just let him down.

Bucky slowed for a moment, trying to act like he was teasing Steve when he was really concerned about his breathing. Steve caught up, but only for a second before Bucky bolted forward more. Steve let out a laugh as Bucky giggled up ahead and followed him with furious determination.

“We’re almost there! C’mon the store’s at the end of the block.” Bucky tried his best to encourage Steve to keep going, just to push his limits. It was surprising enough that he’d gotten him to play outside every day for three weeks. Getting Steve to run the four blocks is a miracle in Bucky’s eyes, but here they were, chasing each other down the street and dodging cars as they passed.

Steve started to slow, his breathing harder and his chest a little tighter. He was wheezing in and out, but he didn’t stop. ‘Gotta keep going, almost there,’ he thought to himself.

Bucky noticed just as he reached the drugstore that Steve had started to slow down. He watched with a big grin and bright blue eyes as Steve trudged over to his friend, his face flushed and covered in a fine layer of sweat. Bucky was about to gush how proud he was of Steve when the smaller boy asked, “Think if we told the man I was sick he’d let us sit at the bar?” Steve asked between weak breaths.

Bucky was obviously worried, Steve looked like he could pass out any moment. But he caught the look of determination in Steve’s blue eyes and decided not to voice his concerns just yet. His heart swelled with pride for the younger kid as he said, “I’m sure we can get a booth at least.” He slung an arm around the smaller boy and they walked into the cool store, both sighing in relief to be out of the Brooklyn summer heat.

Steve was fighting an asthma attack, he was sure of it. He knew it was inevitable, seeing as he just ran farther than he's ran in, well, forever. He just couldn’t let this ruin his day, or Bucky’s. Steve wasn’t clueless, he saw how Bucky was proud of him and happy he came along instead of Bucky bringing it back to him like they had before.

Bucky kept his word and tried to get the man to let them sit at the bar. They ended up sitting in a comfy, plush booth instead, with two milkshakes sitting in front of them.

Steve leaned forward, bouncing a little on the seat, and sipped at his vanilla milkshake. He gave up after a couple of sips and went into a full blown attack, coughing loud and hard in the middle of the drug store. He couldn’t breathe, his chest hurt and his hands were shaking just a little with the force of his coughs. His muscles felt tight around his neck and shoulders, his face reddening.

“What should I do?” Bucky was panicking as he watched with wide, horrified eyes. “Are you okay?”

Steve tried to talk, but he couldn’t. It hurt too much to do anything; breath, talk, drink. . . He reached for the collar of his shirt and tugged half-heartedly as he kept coughing. Steve wanted to cry really bad, but Bucky had been so proud of him. Would he still be proud if he cried? Steve didn’t know and he wasn’t about to find out.

Bucky got the message and slid into Steve’s side of the booth. His own shaky, pale hands reached up to gently move Steve’s away from his collar and tie. Bucky took off the tie and undid the first few buttons of Steve’s shirt, biting his lip the entire time so he himself wouldn’t cry. “Don’t worry Stevie, I’ve got you. We can figure this out, just try. . .” Bucky started to ramble as he rubbed Steve’s back gently. “Take it easy,” he whispered. He was terrified, completely unsure of how to help his friend.

He kept rubbing circles on the blonde’s back, whispering whatever came to mind to the younger boy. “You’re gonna be okay,” he mumbled, “and we’re gonna have a blast when we get home.”

Steve tried so hard not to cry, but the tears started to slip out unintentionally. He wanted so badly to stop the attack. Not because of the pain it caused him or the fact he felt like he was out of control of his own body, but because Steve noticed the physical pain Bucky had when watching Steve go through this. He wanted to stop it for Bucky’s sake.

Other patrons and waiters started to question whether or not Steve was okay. Bucky tried his best to answer them, to explain that he’d be okay and this happened a lot. But he couldn’t because he didn’t know if Steve was okay and sure it happens a lot, but not when they’re by themselves. He honestly couldn’t tell if Steve needed medical attention yet or not.

In some sort of miracle, Steve was okay again. He was crying, with tears all down his face and a runny nose, and shaking just a little, but he was okay. Bucky hugged him tightly but backed off the second Steve sobbed. “Did I hurt you?” Steve shook his head and hid in Bucky’s shirt, his tears and snot soaking the material.

Steve was extremely embarrassed. He hated crying, much less in public. He just couldn’t help it. . . His body felt terrible and tight and Bucky had been so worried about him. But part of him was really thankful to have Bucky here with him. Steve wouldn’t admit it, but he always got scared in these situations.

Bucky held him tight, making sure he was okay. He thanked the adults that had surrounded them, saying he’ll be okay. “Why don’t you two come sit up here? I wanna keep an eye on him,” the waiter said with a small smile.

“Look at that, Steve, you still figured out a way for us to sit up at the bar. You’ve been holding back from me, Rogers. You’re a devious one, I tell ya.” Bucky helped Steve into the bar stool and grabbed both of their milkshakes.

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve mumbled as he sipped at his milkshake.

“Don’t mention it, kid.”

~*~*~*~

The neighborhood was getting ready for the big Fourth of July celebration. Women were hanging American flags everywhere, children were running around with ice cream and candy, and the street smelled like a picnic with all the kitchen windows open. Steve and Bucky were really excited, because not only were they celebrating the country’s birthday, but also Steve’s.

“Can we stay up late to see the fireworks? Please, Momma?” Steve asked his mother as the boys sat around the kitchen table.

“I don’t see why not.” Sarah Rogers busied herself in the kitchen, making the boys’ a snack and getting her food platter ready. “Bucky, your mother said it was okay for you to stay the night?”

Bucky nodded, a grin on his face. “Yes, ma’am! She said Steve was welcome at any time, too.” Sarah smiled back at the boy and gave them both a glass of milk and a plate of Oreos. Their chorus of thank-yous and giggles warmed her heart. She had never seen Steve this happy on his birthday. Sure they’ve had great times in the past, but the Fourth of July always shadows his big day. It made her even more thankful that Steve had Bucky.

“We’re gonna go play now,” Steve told her as they both climbed off their seats and raced out the door. She laughed quietly to herself as she listened to their feet hit the stairs at a rapid pace, the building door slamming shut behind them.

Bucky had worked with Steve all summer. He got Steve to play all sorts of games and sports, with and without other children. He still got winded every now and then and still preferred to sit inside and draw, but he played with Bucky. He’d do anything to make Bucky happy.

“Let’s play hide and seek!” one kid shouted. Soon kids were scrambling to find good hiding spots and giggling once they were settled. Steve and Bucky stuck together for the most part until Bucky needed to take a break.

“I’ll be right back, I just need to pee,” he told Steve before running back to Steve’s house. The confident, carefree persona Steve had adopted when he was around Bucky started to shrink as he struggled to find an unoccupied hiding place.

When he did, he squeezed behind the mailbox and between the trashcans and peered out at the counting boy. It was then that he realized Paul was counting and Bucky was nowhere to be seen. Steve didn’t let the older boy torment him, even if what he said and did really hurt. He knew Bucky thought he was brave for not letting Paul get away with things, but he also knew Bucky was worried about him.

Paul finished counting and raced up and down the streets, pulling kids out of their hiding spots. Steve held his breath as Paul moved closer, scared the wheezing would give him up. He could just wait a few more seconds, Steve could probably zip past Paul and into the safe zone.

He wasn’t as lucky as he thought.

Paul snatched Steve out of the tight squeeze by his shirt collar. “Hey there Rogers,” the boy spat. “Where’s Barnes? He take a sick day from guarding ya?” Paul sneered as he held Steve close to him. Steve glared up at the cold face of his bully and tried his best to will the bravery and courage that Bucky had.

Steve took a couple punches, one to the nose and the other to the gut. With some sort of strange power, Steve even swung at Paul, just barely grazing his face. “You got guts kid,” Steve heard Bucky say just before Bucky pushed Paul away from Steve. Paul was in tears after Bucky gave him a couple punches and told him to leave.

Steve looked up at Bucky, blood gushing out of his left nostril, with the biggest grin on his face.

“Thanks, Buck, I needed that.”

“How many times do I need to say don’t mention it? What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t save your life every other day?” Steve laughed loudly at that one. He scrambled up and joined Bucky by his side. “C’mon, we better get you cleaned up so we can go eat.”

That night, the two fell asleep on the roof. They watched the fireworks come and go and then stared up at the stars above until both boys were out cold. Sarah asked Miss Walker’s new beau to help take them downstairs for her, where they were tucked into Steve’s bed without another word.

Sarah knew there was something special about these two. She just didn’t know what.


	4. 1928

_Chapter Three_

**1928**

The past couple of years, Steve and Bucky’s relationship only grew closer. They spent most of their time together, splitting the time between their houses. During the summer, they played closer to Bucky’s house so he could watch Becky and Eugene. For winter, they’d have to be at Steve’s seeing as he was always sick once the temperature dropped below sixty.

They were the best of friends. Steve felt like the only person he could truly count on all the time, was Bucky. Half the time, Bucky never played with his other friends because Steve was all he needed. He just enjoyed being with Steve and Steve enjoyed being with him.

The two were on the playground for the last time that year. Everyone else was screaming and shouting, ready for summer break to officially start. Steve, however, wasn’t as thrilled. “But why do you have to go?” He asked Bucky as they sat underneath a tree.

“Because I need to go to the sixth grade and you need to go to the fifth grade. This school doesn’t offer the sixth grade, so I have to go to another school for a few years. It’ll be okay. We can hang out all summer and every day after school.” Bucky wrapped an arm around Steve. “I won’t leave you, I promise.”

“But you are. I’ll be all alone with nobody to talk to all year long. No one will let me play with them if you’re not here. I’ll be stuck watching again. Or in the nurse’s office.” Steve pouted, his bottom lip stuck out as far as he could.

Bucky laughed softly. “You’ll be okay. I know you’re strong enough. Besides, it’s only for a year.”

“Yeah. . . an entire year.” Steve laid his head on Bucky’s shoulder, a wave of emotions hitting him. He ignored most of them, trying to focus on keeping Bucky at the school he was going to.

“Don’t be sad now! We have, like, an hour before school’s out for summer! Then we can play all day long and maybe if we ask Momma, we can go to Coney Island! I’m sure you’re tall enough for the Cyclone now!” Bucky ruffled Steve’s hair, a grin on his face. They both knew he was still too short, but they weren’t concerned with summer activities. Truth is, both of the boys were terrified of leaving each other.

Bucky’s teacher called him in before Steve could respond. Steve wished him luck at his “graduation party” and watched the older boy run off into the building.

Steve had never felt worse. The idea of losing his friend was too much, despite the fact summer lay ahead of them. He was afraid that Bucky would disappear from his life once he’s made friends and gotten used to the environment at his new school.

Steve just knew this was the end.

~*~*~*~

The summer flew by them both, but lucky for Steve, he and Rebecca were closer than ever. At least once a week, Bucky would teach Eugene how to play baseball. The three-year-old and Steve weren’t the best players, so Bucky taught them one at a time. Steve would sit on the steps of Bucky’s building, drawing the two play or whatever else catches his eyes. Becky would color his pictures from the previous day, asking him what color he wanted this or if this color looked good.

By the time school came around, Steve wasn’t worried at all about being left alone. He had Becky. They’d sit together at lunch and play together at recess. The two of them being so close helped ease Steve’s mind and more importantly Bucky’s.

Bucky had told them both to look out for one another, even threatened a couple kids (behind Steve’s back) in Steve’s grade to not mess with them. It was his turn to be worried. He was worried about Steve adjusting to the new order of things without him. He was worried about Becky getting picked on, too. He was worried that them being friends wasn’t the best idea. He was just worried.

Bucky’s worse nightmares came into play a few weeks into the school year. Steve was pushing Becky, with all his might, on the swings one afternoon. The fourth grader laughed and giggled, shouting at Steve to be careful of her dress. They were having the best time, especially since they thought it would rain before recess came around.

Half-way through recess, a couple of boys in Becky’s grade came up from behind them and pushed Steve down. “Hey, don’t you touch him!” Rebecca barked, jumping off the swing and putting her hands on her hips.

Steve waved her away, crawling up onto his knees. “I’m okay, Becky,” he told her. Steve didn’t want Becky getting in the middle of all this. If she got hurt because of him, Steve wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

“No. It’s not fair. You boys need to leave him alone.” Becky wasn’t in a joking mood. She hated watching Steve get beaten up and bullied after school when he thought she was with her other friends on the other side of the schoolyard. She hated seeing the bruises and cuts and knowing that if she had just spoken up, they’d be gone. “You have no reason to mess with him, and you know it.” Her little foot stomped the ground, sending a small cloud of dust up.  
The two boys laughed at her, their mocking words unidentifiable to either Steve or Becky. One boy kicked Steve down, his foot lodging between two ribs for a split second. The other ran over to mock Becky to her face.

“Look, Mark, little Becky’s got a crush on the baby!” The second boy sang, his fingers pinching Becky’s cheeks. The first boy, Mark, laughed loudly and clutched his sides. Then he ran over and pulled up Becky’s dress, pulling it over her head so her bloomers were on full display. The second boy held her arms to the point Becky couldn’t move.

Steve saw red. How dare they treat her like that? They were supposed to treat women and girls with respect and the utmost care! They were supposed to be gentlemen, that’s what the teachers always told them. How could they treat her as if she was just another boy?

He stood up from the ground and stomped over to them, punching Mark in the gut and the other boy in the arm. “You leave her alone!” He screamed, his little fists raised. Both boys looked confused, and a little shocked, at the sight of Steve defending Becky. He hadn’t struggled when he was getting hurt, but he was furious when Becky was hurt.

Steve took the opportunity to help Becky out of her situation, a strong blush coating his skin. “Are you okay?” Becky nodded, a small smile on her face. She was about to say something when Mark grabbed at Steve’s arm and tugged at him to spin Steve around and face him.

“Look here ya little punk, you don’t get to make the rules. I do. Barnes isn’t here to save you no more. You take what I give you and you deal with it. Capece?” he spat, his spit falling off his bottom lip and onto Steve’s cheek. He let the smaller blond go with enough time to stable himself before he swung at him, busting his lip. “Go ahead and get a lick in, Walt,” said Mark.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Walt said and moved closer to Steve once he was balanced again. Only to punch him right in the eye, and knock him right out.

When Steve woke up, he was in the nurse's office. Becky was sitting beside him, coloring in one of his pictures of Bucky and Eugene. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a test today?”

Becky looked up and blushed. “My teacher said I could come make sure you were okay.”

“You should go back to class, I’ll be okay.” Steve sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the cot.

Becky stood and handed Steve the picture. “Thank you, by the way.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek, where a big, red bruise was forming. “You’re my hero.”

Later on, when Steve got home, Bucky was furious with worry. “Are you okay? Is she okay? How bad did he hurt you? Where is he? I’m gonna kick his-” Steve hugged the older boy, cutting Bucky off.  
“Becky’s okay. They were messing with her and I stopped them. I just did what you’ve done for me.” Bucky sighed and hugged Steve tightly, but carefully.

“Thanks for looking after her. I’m real proud of you Stevie.”

~*~*~*~

Steve had gone two weeks without a single incident; no bullies, no colds, no illnesses, no asthma attacks. He was like a normal boy for a short period of time, and Sarah Rogers couldn’t have been happier. “He may actually be getting better,” she told Miss Dorothy Walker as they sipped at their coffees.

“I really hope so. It’s rough watching him some days when it gets really bad.” The women glanced into the living room, where Steve, Bucky, Eugene, and Rebecca were playing a game of monopoly. Their shrieks of laughter filled the apartment, spilling out into the hallway and through the windows.

“He seems so happy, doesn’t he?” Sarah smiled absentmindedly, her nails tapping against the mug.

“He sure does,” Dorothy agreed. They watched the four children play, laughing as Eugene tried to steal from Becky, who was playing as the banker today.

Sarah turned back to their coffee suddenly, a warm smile on her face. “How’s the wedding planning going?” Dorothy’s own face light up like a Christmas tree. She was soon rambling all about how her beau, Bradley, was treating her like a princess and how her parents were spoiling her with this extravagant wedding.

“I was actually wondering if Steve and Bucky would be my ring bearers? My twin nieces are going to be the flower girls, but my sister doesn’t have any sons and Bradley’s an only child. . .” She trailed off, her eyes a hopeful question.

Sarah gasped and took Dorothy’s hand. “Oh, I’m sure they’d love too! I can just see them now, looking dashing in their little suits!” The two women were sent into a giggling, rambling fit. That is until Steve went into a coughing fit.

Steve had been laughing as Bucky was sent to jail when his chest started to ache. He coughed lightly at first but then he couldn’t stop. Bucky freaked, trying to give him some space. “Is he okay?” Becky asked as Sarah and Miss Walker rushed to Steve’s side.

“Just give him a second,” Sarah told them. Steve was starting to tear up, his face bright red. And then Sarah saw the blood. “Bucky, take Eugene and Rebecca home. I need to take Steve to the hospital.”

Steve finally calmed down, but he couldn’t stop crying. He didn’t want to go to the hospital again and he didn’t want to be sick. He didn’t like scaring his friends and mom. He didn’t like this at all.  
“I don’t wanna leave him,” Bucky mumbled. “Can I go with?”

“Sweetie, that’s not a good idea. You need to take your sibling's back to your house. I’ll call your mother when I know more, okay?” Sarah picked up Steve, grabbing a few things on her way out the door.

Bucky raced after her, panicked and upset. “No, I wanna come with! He needs me! Please Mrs. Rogers, please?” He was close to tears, despite how many times Steve had this kind of situations. They always scared him senseless, no matter what it was.

Steve looked over Sarah’s shoulder and cried harder. “Please, Mommy?” He sobbed before he coughed harder. A desperate wave of panic flooded through them all, making Sarah agree.

“I’ll let the Barnes’ know Bucky’s with you and take these two back home.” Dorothy took Becky’s hand and picked up Eugene. Sarah thanked her and they all hurried off in their own directions.

Two days later and Steve was still in the hospital with pneumonia. Bucky stayed right beside him, playing games with him, reading to him, and just talking with him. Sarah worked at the hospital and changed her shifts with Steve’s nurse’s, so she can still work and keep an eye on him. She was thankful to have Bucky because she couldn't take off anytime and she needed someone to stay with Steve. Bucky did it without complaining, he wanted to spend time with Steve. And it made her so happy.

She would watch the two boys from the door when she got a chance. They were quite cute together, with Bucky sitting in front of Steve and a smile on his face. They were playing cards and Bucky seemed to be letting Steve win.

“Will you look at that? Steve, you won again!” Bucky laughed and set the cards down. Steve coughed a little but asked to play again anyways.

Sarah's chest was filled with warm, fuzzy feelings from watching the two. She quietly walked away, a smile on her face. Sarah knew nothing bad would happen to her son, not when he had Bucky.

She later found the two cuddling together in the hospital bed. Bucky squeezed in between Steve and the edge of the bed, his body contorted in an awkward position. Sarah tried to wake him up and get him to move, but he kept telling her, “No, Stevie wants me here.” So she left him.

Steve was in the hospital for a week. He stayed home from school for two. Bucky would spend the afternoons with him, helping out with his homework he didn't understand and making sure he was okay.

That's what Bucky did. And that's all Steve needed. He just needed someone to care and worry about him, but keep life moving for him. Steve wasn't about to let his ailments get the best of him, and Bucky loved that.

~*~*~*~

December came around fast. And with December came Christmas! Steve and Bucky were so excited, they were shaking in their boots! “Mom, can we go see the Macy’s parade?” Bucky asked her one morning. “Please? Steve and I have gone every year, we can’t just not go this year!”

Winifred laughed and continued to help Eugene with his breakfast. “I don’t see why you can’t. I’ll ask your father and we’ll talk, okay?” Bucky jumped in victory and grabbed his things. “Thanks, Momma!” He ran around and kissed her cheek before rushing out the house to pick up Steve.

“Stevie, I’ve got great news!” Bucky yelled as he walked into the Rogers’ house. “Good morning, Mrs. Rogers,” he told Steve’s mother as he jumped into the seat beside Steve.

“What is it?” Steve asked, his mouth full of oatmeal.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Sarah and Bucky said in unison. Steve blushed, swallowed, and asked his question again.

Bucky said with a laugh, “We might get to go to the parade!” Steve cheered and hugged Bucky before they both looked to Sarah. “If that’s okay with you, of course.”

“I don’t see why not, but you boys better get to school soon.” Sarah gave them each a bag of cookies for a snack and Steve’s lunch.

A week later, the boys did get to go to the parade. They sat up front, with Eugene and Becky, and watched with amazement as all the floats passed by. They laughed and danced to the music of all the bands performing, and when Santa Claus finally pulled up. . . All four eyes were wide with wonder as the jolly old man waved at them.

“I can’t wait to see Santa this year!” Becky told them on their way home.

“We should go after school one day if Mom says it's okay,” Bucky said as he picked up Eugene and put him on his shoulders. Sarah and Winifred took the kids to see him a few days later, the Christmas spirit filling each of them.

When Christmas finally showed up, Steve made sure to make Bucky’s present perfect. Sarah and the Barnes wanted to give all the kids the best Christmas they could, and they did just that. It was the last Christmas they really had, filled with toys and laughter and good food. It was by far Steve’s favorite holiday memory. One that would get him through the tough times that were about to come.


	5. 1929

_Chapter Four_

**1929**

A couple months later, it was Bucky’s twelfth birthday. “What do you want to do?” Steve asked him, sitting on the floor of Bucky’s bedroom. Bucky was laying upside down on his bed, a hand on his chin.

“I don’t know. We can’t really do anything on my actual birthday, since Momma wants to go to church still and she’s inviting the family over for lunch - which I’m sure you’re invited to, too. But Saturday, now that’s a different story. I have no idea what we’re gonna do.” Bucky rolled over and sat up, the blood rushing from his head.

Steve nodded, his head in his hands. “It’s your day, Buck. We can do whatever you want!” Steve really wanted to give Bucky a good birthday. He deserved it, with everything he’s done for Becky, Eugene, and Steve.

Bucky honestly couldn’t think of anything. Everything they normally do is too mundane to be his birthday celebration. Bucky wanted to do something he could remember for hundreds of years. Something he and Steve have never done before!

And that’s when it hit him.

Bucky shot up from his bed and scavenged through his room. “Steve, I’ve got an idea. Stand up.”

Steve jumped up, already excited simply because Bucky was excited! “What is it?” Bucky held up a tape measure and started to measure Steve. “What are you doing?”

Bucky was giddy with excitement and jumped up and down once he got Steve’s height. “You’re tall enough to ride the Cyclone, Stevie!” Steve gasped before he, too, was jumping up and down with Bucky. “We can go to Coney Island!”

“We’re going to Coney Island!” Steve echoed.

That Saturday, the two of them took off for the amusement park. Mrs. Rogers and the Barnes’ gave them both five dollars to spend for the day and told them to be home in time for dinner.

Bucky was thrilled. Not only was he now twelve, but he’s on his way to Coney Island for the first time without parents with his best friend! What more could he ask for his birthday? He draped an arm around Steve’s shoulders, humming a tune from a song his mother usually sang when she was cooking.

Steve was just as happy to be going with Bucky, but his nerves were starting to get to him. “Are you sure I’m tall enough to ride the Cyclone?”

“Yeah, I measured you myself. You’re fine.”

“Is it fun?”

“How would I know? Dummy, I haven’t ridden it yet! But Max and Bob say it is.”

“But is it safe?”

“Far as I know.”

“I don’t think it’s safe. It doesn’t seem safe.”

“It is, trust me.”

“But what if it breaks while we’re on there?”

“With that kind of attitude, it will.” 

“Buck, be serious.”

“I am serious! I’m just trying to get it through your thick skull that this is how it works. We go to the park, we give the man a quarter, and we ride the ride. Then we get off, go back into another line, and give another man another quarter. See where I’m going with this?”

Steve huffed. It’s not his fault he’s nervous. He’s never ridden a rollercoaster before. Bucky did when he came with his friends, but Steve was never tall enough to ride a rollercoaster. He wasn’t even sure it was healthy for him to ride one.

He would do it for Bucky, though. He’d do anything for Bucky.

“Look, Steve! There it is!” Bucky shouted as he sprinted towards the amusement park gates. Steve laughed and did his best to keep up with Bucky. The two powered through the crowd, Bucky grabbing Steve’s arm when it got too crowded. “Maybe we should have come yesterday?”

“But your birthday wasn’t yesterday, Buck.” Bucky sent Steve a sarcastic glare and dragged him towards a ride.

They started out small, with smaller coasters and little games. Steve tried desperately to win Bucky one of the teddy bears, but Bucky ended up winning it for Steve. “Oh c’mon, Stevie! Take it!” Bucky said with a laugh as he tried to get Steve to carry the bear.

“No, you won it. You carry it.”

“But I’m giving it to you!”

“But it’s your birthday. So I’m giving it back to you.”

“You can’t regift a gift I gave you! Be a man and take the bear!” Bucky shook his head and handed Steve the small teddy bear.

Steve took it with a small smile. “Fine. But I’m gonna win you another!” They shook hands, before Bucky dragged Steve toward another ride, then another, and then another.

“Wanna grab a hot-dog before we ride the Cyclone?” Steve looked at Bucky like he was crazy. When he realized the older boy wasn’t joking, Steve slapped him upside the head.

“You don’t eat food then ride a rollercoaster! Do you want to upchuck all over the place?”

“I promise, Steve, I won’t vomit.” Steve glanced at him cautiously, before he agreed. So the two grabbed themselves a hot-dog and when they finished, stepped in line to ride the Cyclone.

His nerves were starting to get to him again. The Cyclone was huge and really fast up close. Steve wasn’t sure he could do it, he didn’t know if he was brave enough to go. Bucky, on the other hand, was bouncing with excitement. “We’re about to ride the Cyclone! We’re about to ride the Cyclone! Steve, guess what? We’re about to ride the Cyclone!” The people around them laughed at his enthusiasm and the man in front of them started sharing horror stories about all the times he’s ridden it.

“Oh, there was one time when this kid fell right off! Thankfully he landed in the nets on the side, but he was scared beyond comprehension! Had to get his mommy and daddy to get him down,” the man explained. “I’ve ridden it eighty times just this year! You’re gonna love it!” Bucky was in awe. He was thrilled to finally be riding this coaster and to be riding it with his best friend! “You alright son? You don’t look so good.” Bucky looked to Steve, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Steve was looking green. He was shaking with his blue eyes wide and full of fear. He didn’t want to ride this. He wanted to go back to the games. He didn’t want to ride the Cyclone. He didn’t want to hurt Bucky’s feelings.

“Steve, are you?” Bucky asked, grabbing the blonde by the shoulders.

Steve looked up at Bucky and gave him a small nod. “I’m okay, just a little nervous,” he whispered. A strong blush crept up his body, warming Steve’s face.

And suddenly, before Bucky could fully reassure Steve, it was their turn.

“It’s gonna be okay. Just focus on me. I promise I won’t let you do anything that would get you hurt.” Bucky was serious. His face lacked any of his previous carefree attitude but was replaced with his natural concern for Steve. “You got it?” Steve nodded and the two climbed into the rollercoaster car.

Once they were settled in, Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand and held on tight. He was starting to panic now that they were strapping him in. “Hey, Stevie. You can do this. You’re the toughest kid I know. You can ride a silly roller coaster.”

The car jerked forward, and Steve was filled with a sense of courage. He didn’t let go of Bucky’s hand the entire ride, but he wasn’t as panicked. That is until he started to feel like he was gonna be sick. The rollercoaster jerked and sped along the tracks, sending Steve into a trance.

When the boys got off, Bucky was filled with adrenaline. “Let’s ride it again!” He jumped up and down as he waited for Steve to get out. “You did it, Stevie!” Steve stepped out of the car and ran as fast as he could down the ramp. By the time Bucky caught up to him, Steve was hanging out of a trashcan hurling the junk food they ate.

With a light chuckle, Bucky helped Steve through it. “You did good, Stevie,” he told him as he rubbed Steve’s back.

“Thanks,” Steve mumbled between waves of vomiting. Bucky grimaced a little, waving people off as they looked to the pair with concerned eyes. When Steve was finished, he stood up and wiped his mouth. “Wanna ride it again?”

Bucky burst into laughter, grabbing his sides as he shook. When he calmed down, he grabbed Steve by the shoulder and guided him off to another ride.

~*~*~*~

When summer came around, both boys were happy to be going to the same school again. While it was relieving to have a bit of time apart, the boys really did miss spending their lunch and recesses together.

“I almost can’t wait for school to start!” Steve laughed as Bucky, Becky, and Steve walked home from their last day of school.

“Hold your horses, kid. We’ve got a summer filled with adventure waiting for us, let’s not rush it.” Bucky slung an arm over his shoulders as they walked. “I mean, we’ve gotta lot to do! I gotta get you in shape for baseball! We gotta go back to Coney Island and ride the Cyclone again and again and again! Summer is awaiting Steve, let’s make it last.”

“Nice speech, Buck. How long did it take for you to write it?” Steve winked at Becky who went into a giggling fit. Bucky’s arm fell from his shoulders as he pushed Steve slightly. Steve laughed, regaining his balance before he lightly pushed Bucky.

“C’mon, Stevie, don’t be a punk.” Bucky laughed as he pushed him again, still as light as he could.

“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t such a jerk.” Steve pushed him before Bucky doubled over in laughter. It wasn’t even that funny, but all three of them were in fits of laughter.

When they calmed back down, Bucky patted Steve on his shoulder. “I’ll meet you at your house, yeah? I gotta check in with Mama.” Steve nodded and said goodbye to Becky, who was going to play with her friends after she checked in with their parents.

Steve walked to his house, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He was only a block away from his house when he saw a group of boys take a little girls toy. They tossed it back and forth, laughing and shouting at each other. As soon as he heard the girl start to cry, his hands balled into fists and he marched over. There was no way he was gonna let them get away with this!

“Hey!” He shouted at them, jumping up and trying to snatch the toy from them. “Give that back to her!”

One of the boys grabbed Steve’s shirt and pulled him off the ground a bit. “What are you gonna do, kid? Tell my mommy?”

Steve glared up at the boy and shook his head. “No. But you’re going to give her back her toy.”

The boy mocked thinking for a minute before he shook his head and threw Steve on the ground. That’s when the other boys started up again, but this time alternating who would beat Steve and who would have the toy. Steve fought back as he tried to get up, kicking whenever he could. He even got a couple punches in. Steve stood, staggering just a little, and punched the guy again. “You just don’t stop, do you?”

“No.” Steve did his best in the fight and when he was just about finished, Bucky swooped in. With a quick jab here and hard kick there, Bucky fought off the bullies. He gave the toy back to the girl and hurried to haul Steve back home.

“C’mon, Steve, really? Do you even know those guys? They’re in the grade above me. You don’t need to be picking fights just because. You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days.” Bucky helped him into the quiet house and dragged him into the bathroom. He helped Steve sit on the edge of the tub and grabbed the first aid kit Mrs. Rogers kept under the sink.

“But she needed my help, Buck! I couldn’t let her go through that,” Steve pleaded.

“That’s no excuse, Steve. You’ve already got enough wrong with you, a broken bone or two isn’t gonna help.” Bucky started to clean up the scraps on Steve’s knees and shins, his face strained in concentration. Steve pouted, crossing his arms with a huff.

“I can handle myself, Bucky.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Yes, I can. I gotta good punch. I can stand on my own. I can do just fine,” Steve stated matter-of-factly.

Bucky looked up at the defiant blonde, noticing how the strength and bravery washed off his big blue eyes in waves. He couldn’t believe his little, sickly friend could be this. . . strong. He wouldn’t admit it to Steve, but he was so proud of him. Oh, so proud.

Instead, he smiled a little and nodded. “You’ve got a good start, but you don’t have the power just yet.” Steve rolled his eyes, his shoulders deflating just a little to the point it hurt Bucky to watch. “Looks like I’ll have to teach you later.” He looked up and winked at Steve, his heart fluttering as Steve’s face lit up with a giant grin.

~*~*~*~

It was a couple of weeks into the school year when the boys finally got into a routine. They’d meet at the end of the block where their streets met and walk to school. They’d split up once school officially started and would meet up again at lunch. They’d catch up only to go their separate ways until after school. Bucky would go to junior football and Steve would sit in the bleachers to catch up on homework or draw until Bucky was finished. After practice, they’d head over to the Barnes’ residence until Mrs. Rogers came home from her shift at the hospital.

That is until Bucky met her.

She just transferred into the school, a new face among a worn crowd. With her knee length dress swaying with every move, her white heels clicking down the hall, her blonde hair was tied up in a blue ribbon that matched the skirt of her dress bobbed with each footstep, she was everything Bucky imagined an angel to look like. From the moment, he saw her in the courtyard that crisp fall morning, she was embedded into his mind like that tune from the radio that plays between shows.

Steve, catch me. I think I’m gonna faint.” Bucky staggered a bit, a hand reaching to grab Steve’s shoulder playfully. Steve took a couple steps back with Bucky, a laugh following.

“What’s the matter, Buck?”

“I’ve seen an angel,” he mumbled as his eyes watched her walk across the courtyard and into the school.

“What?”

“You missed her Steve!” Bucky straightened up. “Should’ve seen her, Stevie. I dunno how you missed her.” Bucky shook his head, his eyes bright and dazed. “She had big green eyes, from what I can tell, and her hair was golden.” He gave a longing sigh and his shoulders fell.

Steve rolled his eyes and pushed him lightly. “Then go catch up to her! I’ll see you at lunch.” Steve gathered his things and started for the building after Bucky thanked him.

With a spring in his step, Bucky was off to get the girl. And he did, after some smooth talking and a little bit of charm, he got her to agree to go grab a milkshake at the dinner across the street after school.

He waited for her at the school gates. “I have a good feeling about this Stevie.” Steve looked up at him, one of his eyebrows raised. “We're gonna have a ball, I can feel it.”

“How do you know she even likes you?” Steve mused.

“Who doesn't like me?” Bucky winked at him. “Look, here she comes!”

Steve looked over his shoulder, noticing the girl Bucky had described walking towards them. She was clutching her books to her chest and would shyly look up through her bangs every now and then. “I guess that's my cue. I'll see you later?”

Bucky nodded and patted Steve’s shoulder. “Thanks, pal.” Steve walked off, his head held high. Bucky watched him leave for a moment before he turned to see the girl almost beside him.

“Hi,” she said with a giggle.

“Hi.” A blush wrapped around Bucky's throat, creeping up to grab his cheeks and ears. “You ready to go?” He pointed his thumb at the dinner as he bounced on the ball of his heel.

“Absolutely.” She took his arm and the two walked to the dinner, where they shared a milkshake and talked for hours.

Bucky learned her name was Diana and she had just moved to Brooklyn from Chicago. Her father is a lawyer and her mother stays at home with her younger brother. She liked to read just like Bucky did and they both hated to draw, but wouldn't mind if they had talent. Bucky told her all about Steve and his art skills. He told her about Becky and Eugene and how they got on his nerves a lot, but he’d do anything for them.

“You’re the sweetest,” Diana told him as he walked her home.

“I beg to differ.” She giggled and blushed, shying away from Bucky’s charming blue eyes. “We should do this again,” he told her.

“I’d love that.”

That’s how the routine broke, with Bucky drooling over Diana and taking her out every afternoon. Steve was fine with it, he even tagged along every now and then. They were growing up, he realized one afternoon on his walk home, and that meant things would be changing.

However, the more Steve walked home alone, the more problems he ran into. Bullies would follow him down his street or he’d have to stop some jerks from picking on the girls who lived below him who always sat on the stairs with their dolls, either way, Steve ended up bloody, bruised, and sore.

Steve was happy for Bucky, though. He had his first girlfriend! He was a lucky fellow to find a girl as pretty and sweet as Diana to go out with him. Steve wished he’d be lucky enough to get a nice girl like Diana when he was older, like Bucky.

But one day, when Bucky walked over to Steve’s after he walked Diana home, Steve wasn’t there. He walked into the house, the sounds of Mrs. Rogers cooking echoing through the thin walls. The door shut and a pan clattered to the floor. “Steve, is that you?”

“No, ma’am. It’s Bucky, I was coming to check up on Steve. He wasn’t feelin’ all that well when he left school, but he wouldn’t let me walk him home,” he explained as he walked into the kitchen. Sarah was starting to panic, she had come home herself just an hour before and Steve hadn’t greeted her at the door like usual. It’s been at least three hours since school let out.

Worst case scenarios started to play in both of their heads, their horror-stricken faces mimicking each other. Bucky bolted for the door as Sarah turned off the oven and the stove so she could hurry after him. They walked in opposite directions down the street, looking for the eleven-year-old.

It was Bucky who found him.

He was laying in an alley, unconscious and beaten. His body was covered in scrapes, bruises, and dried blood, his clothes soaked in grime and whatever juice came out of the dumpster. He was just starting to wake up, a whine and a whimper bouncing off the brick walls that surrounded him alerted Bucky that he was even there.

“Steve!” He yelled, loud enough for Sarah to hear. He rushed to the blonde’s side and pulled him into his lap. “Stevie, pal, wake up!” Bucky was starting to cry as he gently shook Steve awake.

With blurry, unfocused eyes, Steve woke up in a daze. “Buck?” He mumbled as he scrambled up a little.

“I’ve got you, Steve. Don’t worry. I’m here.” Bucky and Steve were both in tears as Steve hugged Bucky tight.

Sarah’s heels were heard before she was seen. “Oh, my poor baby,” she cooed as she helped the boys up. Steve could barely stand on his own, so Bucky ended up carrying him. Mrs. Rogers tried to get him to give Steve to her, but he said he was a gentleman and he’d carry Steve. Truth be told, he didn’t want to leave Steve. He wanted to protect him and hold him in his arms forever.

Bucky was beyond mad at himself for not being there.

They got Steve inside and Bucky asked if he could stay the night, to help Mrs. Rogers out and keep Steve company. After they cleaned Steve up, Sarah went to call the Barnes’ to let them know and started dinner back up.

Bucky and Steve sat on the couch, the radio quiet as they waited for the next story to come on. “What happened, Stevie?”

Steve looked to his sock covered feet and wiggled his toes a little. He didn’t want to tell Bucky about the bullies who went after him every afternoon. The ones who beat him up every chance they get. But he also didn’t want to keep anything from Bucky. So he told him. He told him everything.

“That’s it. I’m breaking up with her.” Bucky crossed his arms and glared ahead at the wall.

Steve shook his head. “Don’t do that, you like Diana. She’s too nice and cute for you to let her go. You won’t find another girl like her, y’know?” Bucky sighed and didn’t say anything until the radio story was over. Instead, he cuddled up close to Steve like they always did on sleepovers and they listened.

Bucky didn’t break up with Diana, but he did start walking Steve home every day before the two went out on their dates. He’d get into a couple fights here and there when he needed to, with and without Diana there. Bucky wasn’t about to let a girl steal him away from Steve.

But that’s what happened.

Diana didn’t like the idea of Bucky getting into fights at least twice a week. And she didn’t like that she wasn’t his priority. So she broke up with him after he took her to the dance of course.

“You okay?” Steve asked as they sat on the stairs of the Barnes’ building.

Bucky nodded and mumbled, “Yeah. I’m good. I got my best friend and a future of hearts to break.” He gave Steve a wink before he jumped up. “Wanna play catch? Your pitch is getting better.” With an eager nod from Steve, the two raced inside to grab their gloves and a ball.

~*~*~*~

October 29th changed everything. Businesses started to close, people started to move, and people were starting to worry. The boys knew something was happening, they knew that the stock market had crashed, they knew it wasn’t a good thing. They just didn’t know how or why. It didn’t really affect them until December when George Barnes lost his job.

Mr. Barnes worked as a lawyer at a new firm that just opened up a couple of months ago. The firm, however, wasn’t strong enough to withstand the economic depression the country was starting to spiral into. It was shut down and all of the employees were let go.

The two were washing up for dinner at the Barnes’ when George came home with the news. Bucky joined his younger siblings in greeting him at the door. “Hello children,” George said with a grimace. Steve, Bucky, and Becky could tell he wasn’t happy, that something was up. He wasn’t his usual chipper self and he didn’t shower them in hugs like he usually did.

Winifred called for dinner and asked George what was the matter. He waved her off and washed his hands before taking his seat at the head of the table. “How was your day, George?” she asked once they started to eat.

All he said was, “we’ll talk later.”

No one talked. The boys shared awkward, worried glances with each other occasionally and they both tried to reassure Becky, who was starting to tear up herself.

After dinner, Winifred asked Bucky and Steve to help Eugene get washed up for bed. They bathed him and got him dressed, but neither knew what to do after that so they just let him play in the room he shared with Bucky. They went to go listen to a radio show when they heard the sounds of a woman crying.

Bucky tried to barrel into the kitchen when Steve grabbed his arm. “Stop,” he whispered as he held up a finger to his lips. Bucky was about to argue when he heard his father comforting his mother.

“Winifred, please, we’ll be okay. I’ll find another job tomorrow and everything will be okay.”

“No, it won’t be. Don’t you get it, George? The economy is ruined! Once we’re down, it’ll be impossible to get back to where we were. We have four children we need to look out for, we need to feed and house them. They’ll need new clothes come spring and more clothes in the winter. Children constantly need more money. How are we going to afford that without an income?”

“Four? Winifred, Steve’s hardly over here in the winter. Hell, James is usually at the Rogers’! We can-”

“I’m not counting Steve!” There was a pause and the boys shared a look, their eyes wide and their mouths open. “George, we’re having another baby.”

George mumbled a slew of curses and, “What are we going to do, Wini?”

Bucky turned on his heel and walked back to his and Eugene’s room. Steve hurried after him quietly as he worried his lip between his teeth. “Bedtime.” Bucky put Eugene to bed and cleaned up the room from all of his toys. Steve helped a little, but with the way Bucky was acting, he was more concerned about what Bucky was going to do. Bucky grabbed his pajamas and left the room.

Steve changed into his pajamas and climbed into Bucky’s bed. He waited patiently, twiddling his thumbs and trying desperately not to overreact. He really just needed to be there for Bucky, to help him out with. . . well, this.

Bucky stormed back in quietly, dressed in his pajamas, and jumped into bed beside Steve. Steve moved to lean against the wall, his legs crossed over each other. Bucky laid his head in Steve’s lap, an arm wrapped Steve’s waist.

They sat there for a while, neither of them saying anything for a bit. Until Bucky looked up at Steve with tear-filled eyes and a wobbling lip. “I don’t know what to do, Steve. I heard Mike Poll talking with one of his friends earlier this week about having to get a job so he can help with the rent. I can’t do that, Stevie. Mr. Johnson down the block said once you start working, you don’t stop. I’m too young for this.” Bucky’s head fell, his body racking with sobs.

Steve cradled his head, holding him tight. “We’ll be okay. I promise Bucky.”

Bucky pushed him away, wiping at his face. “You can’t promise something like that, Steve. You don’t know-”

“Nobody knows, Buck. We can’t tell the future and we. . . We can’t lose hope.” Steve moved to sit beside Bucky and leaned against him. “We just have to go a day at a time. But no matter what, I’ll be here for you. It’s us against the world, Buck. You and me.” Bucky hugged Steve tightly and whispered a meek thank you before he broke down further in tears. “Now, you should be excited. You’re getting another baby sibling!” Bucky laughed and kissed Steve’s hair. 

“What would I do without you, kid?” Steve rolled his eyes and moved to lay down. “Good call. Night Stevie.”

“Night Bucky.” 


	6. 1930

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes, I didn't proofread or anything. This was supposed to be way longer, but then I realized it was getting too long. Hope you enjoy it though!

_Chapter Five_

 

#  **1930**

 

Things were a bit off, with George not working. They were struggling and it was starting to affect Bucky. He was getting more aggressive with teachers, other students, neighbors, and anyone else who decided to interact with him, all except for Steve and his family.

 

“If Dad doesn’t find a job soon,” Bucky told Steve on the way home from school one day, “I’ll have to find something. I heard people will hire kids and pay them half what they’re supposed to under the table just to have enough workers to keep their businesses running.”

 

Steve shook his head and sighed. “I just wish you didn’t have to do that. You shouldn’t have to grow up so fast. You’re only twelve, ‘bout to be thirteen. It’s not really fair to you if you have to give up your childhood.”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Stevie, that doesn’t matter! If I need to do this for my family, then I will!” Bucky stuffed his hands in his pockets with a huff.

 

Steve patted Bucky’s shoulder. “I know you will because you’re a good person. You always do what you think is right.”

 

“That’s because you taught me how to,” Bucky said before he could stop himself. A strong blush crept up both of their cheeks as silence fell around them. Before Steve could say anything, a boy pushed him down as he passed. His laughter echoed as he kept walking. Bucky mumbled a couple of curses and pushed past Steve, racing after the boy.

 

Steve was frozen in place as Bucky tackled the boy to the ground. Bucky’s fist raised and fell repeatedly onto the boy’s face. “Don’t ever touch Steve again. Hear me?” Steve rushed over to the boys and grabbed Bucky’s arm. Bucky shook him off, punching with his other arm.

 

“Buck, c’mon. We have to get home. Stop it, Buck.” Steve tried his best to pull his friend off of the boy, but he wasn’t strong enough. He pulled and tugged, begging Bucky to get off the kid.

 

Suddenly, a man rushed towards them and picked Bucky up and off the boy. “Knock it off, you two.” He pushed Bucky away and helped the boy up.

 

Bucky stormed off, his jaw set and his shoulders pulled back. Steve chased after him, wheezing just a little. “Buck, slow down!” He called, his chest tightening just a little. He needed to stop, but he didn’t want to leave Bucky like this. So he bolted, finally catching up. “Bucky,” Steve wheezed out, “slow down, please?”

A curse fell from Bucky’s lips as he helped Steve sit down on one of the steps. “I’m sorry, Stevie. I should have waited and slowed down. I’m sorry,” Bucky told him as he rubbed his back gently.

 

“It’s okay. I was worried ‘bout you, though.” Steve took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “You seemed really mad back there. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that mad over something so small.”

 

“The only small thing about this situation is you, punk.” Bucky chuckled a little as Steve smiled. “That kid shouldn’t have run into you like that. It wasn’t an accident, we both know that for sure. I don’t care if they’re poking you or beating you, I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you. Understand?” Steve nodded.

 

“Thanks Buck.”

 

“‘Course.” They started to walk again, Bucky slinging an arm over Steve’s shoulders. “This would all be resolved, you know, if you’d gain a couple pounds.”

 

“Shut up, ya jerk.”

# ~*~*~*~

Things weren’t looking up for the Barnes. They ended up with an eviction notice and the bank kicked them out. Sarah Rogers welcomed them with open arms, her house big enough for all of them. The kids would stay in Steve’s room (two in his bed and two in the cot Sarah bought) and George and a very pregnant Winifred stayed in the guest room. Sarah found a small job at the hospital for George after a week of them staying. It was enough to pay for little things like groceries and toiletries, but it was only a quarter of the rent. He helped Sarah pay anyways, giving half of it to her for letting them stay and helping with the house maintenance.  

 

“Is it bad that I’m happy you’re staying here?” Steve asked Bucky one night as they were getting ready for bed.

 

“No, I don’t think so.”

 

“I really am happy you’re here. ‘Cause if you weren’t, you’d have to move away. Then I’d never see you,” Steve mumbled.

 

Bucky rolled his eyes and hugged Steve despite them both being shirtless. “Shut up. Don’t think about it anymore. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Steve nodded and hugged Bucky tighter. “Thank you.”

 

Later that night, Steve had a nightmare. He was kicking and crying in his sleep, a pained look on his face as he sobbed. “Steve!” Bucky whisper-shouted as he tried to wake him up.

 

But Steve was trapped in his nightmare.

 

_Bucky walked closer to me, a grin on his face. “Guess what, punk?”_

 

_“What?” I asked, excitement starting to fill my veins._

 

_“We’re moving.”_

 

_“Where?”_

 

_“California?”_

 

_“California? But that’s across the country!” My shoulders fell and my chest got tight._

 

 _“I know. Then I’ll be far, far, far away from_ you _.” Bucky stuck out his tongue before he laughed loudly, a finger pointed at my nose. Suddenly all of my bullies - present and past - were behind him. “Let’s get him,” he yelled and the boys fell upon me._

 

_They kicked and punched everywhere they could, tag-teaming for hours. I tried to get them to stop, I tried to get Bucky to stop them. But he wouldn’t listen, no one would listen! “Please, stop!” I cried, my chest tight like it usually got before an asthma attack. “Please, I’m begging you! Stop!”_

 

Steve woke with a start, his body covered in sweat and his hair mussed everywhere. Bucky’s face was almost an inch away, his blue eyes wide with a mixture of relief, fear, and concern. Steve broke down, glad to see that his friend still cared about him “Shh, Steve, I got you,” Bucky whispered in his ear as the younger boy fell into his best friend’s arms. “Don’t worry, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Steve just cried, holding Bucky tightly as he sobbed. He didn’t want him to go anywhere, he didn’t want to pull away and see the look of hatred like the Bucky in his dream had. He just wanted his Bucky to hold him and take care of him, to protect him at his lowest like he always did.

 

“Want to talk about it?” Bucky asked as Steve started to calm down, his wheezing sobs dwindling down slowly. Steve shook his head like a toddler who didn’t want to go to bed. He laid his head on Bucky’s chest. His breathing shaky as he listened to Bucky’s heartbeat start to go back to normal. “Okay. Want to go back to sleep?” Bucky asked. Steve shook his head again. “Okay. . . What do you want to do?”

 

“Can we just stay like this? Is this okay?” Steve looked up, timid and shy and worried about this all being a dream. He didn’t want to see Bucky hate him ever again, in real life or a dream state. But he looked up anyways at the warm, comforting smile and bright blue eyes that always caught the moonlight in a way that made Steve’s heart swell. Bucky nodded and laid down, holding Steve to his chest as if he were a doll. In his defense, Steve was about the size of a doll. . .

 

An hour passed and both boys were still awake, almost asleep but awake nonetheless. “Thank you,” Steve whispered as he cuddled further into Bucky’s arms. Bucky didn’t say anything, just hummed in response.

 

Neither of the boys knew exactly what was happening, just that they didn’t want it to end. They wanted to spend their entire lives cuddled up in Steve’s twin bed, their bodies cocooned in his navy blue sheets. They didn’t know why they felt this way, just that they did.

 

And they couldn’t be happier.

# ~*~*~*~

 

Happiness seemed to be a foreign concept for the adults in the Roger-Barnes house as of recently. That is, until Winifred went into labor.

 

It was a normal Saturday evening in the middle of June when she first started to feel the baby moving into a birthing position. Winifred was helping Sarah cook dinner, with the kids sitting at the table playing a board game. “Did you hear where Mrs. Malcolm is having an affair wi-” Winifred stopped talking, dropped the spoon she was holding, and placed both hands on her lower belly. “Oh,” she mumbled as Sarah raised an eyebrow in her direction, “the baby’s causing a lot of. . .”

 

“Discomfort?” Sarah offered. Winifred nodded, rubbing her belly gently. “You’re pretty close to popping, think this could be it?”

 

“Maybe?” Winifred sighed. “I’m not sure, really.”

 

It turns out it was, because she went into labor at the end of dinner. Sarah called the midwife, George helped Winifred into the other room, and the children sat in the living room with grins on their faces.

 

“I hope it’s a girl,” Rebecca said as she played with one of her dolls.

 

“No way!” Eugene crossed his arms and huffed. “It’s gonna be a boy.”

 

“Why does it matter?” Bucky asked them, ruffling Eugene's hair.

 

“‘Cause girls are gross,” Eugene explained.

 

“No they aren’t,” Bucky said before Becky could snap at him. “They’re pretty and nice and you’re gonna love one, one day.”

 

“No I won’t.”

 

“Yes, you will,” Steve added.

 

“No.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“No.”

 

“I’m not getting into this,” Bucky mumbled. “C’mon, let’s go play another game. This could take awhile.”

 

It did. The kids ended up falling asleep at the table after playing for two hours, only to be woken up in the morning to meet the newest Barnes.

 

They all shuffled into the guest room, where George and Winifred were sitting on the bed. Winifred had the covers pulled to just below her breasts as she cradled a small bundle in her hands. “C’mere and meet your new sister,” she told her three children. Steve hung back with his mother, watching as Bucky’s face filled with joy upon seeing the baby. “You can come, too, Steve.” She chuckled as Steve blushed and carefully walked closer.

 

“Her name’s Daisy,” said George as the children stared in wonder at the newborn. “She looks just like you did when you were born, Rebecca.”

 

“You must have looked like an alien,” Eugene mumbled, causing a quiet laughter to ripple through the room.

 

“I didn’t. Daisy looks beautiful,” Becky told her mother with a nod.

 

They all stared at the child for a moment longer, before Winifred looked up to Bucky. “James, would you like to hold your sister?” Bucky paused, but nodded. He moved closer, taking the child gently from his mother’s arms and cradled her close to him.

 

Steve stood on his tip-toes to look over his shoulder, his eyes wide with amazement. The baby looked so small in Bucky’s arms. Her little hands small enough to wrap around his pinky. Steve didn’t think anyone could be that small.

 

Bucky was amazed, just like he was when Becky and Eugene were born. This was his baby sister, another kid he’d have to look after and protect. He’d do anything for her already, the precious child he held in his arms.

 

Sarah shooed out the kids not much longer after that, claiming they’d get to see the baby again later. She sent them outside to play after a good breakfast.

 

Bucky was in a daze for most of the day. “Did you see her nose? I think it’ll look like mine when she gets older. I bet she’ll have eyes like Becky, though.” Steve just listened, nodding and humming when he thought was appropriate. He’d listen to Bucky ramble for as long as he wanted to. And he did. Bucky went on and on about his new baby sister all day long, on and off.

 

“Do you ever think about having kids, Steve?” Bucky asked suddenly as they sat at a booth in a diner.

 

“Not really. I don’t think about the future all that much, honestly.” Steve shrugged and stole one of Bucky’s fries.

 

Bucky glared at him for a moment, pulling his plate away from Steve’s pale hands, before he continued. “I do, sometimes. I want to have a couple of kids, a nice looking wife, and a good, secure job that I won’t ever lose.”

 

“That sounds good, Buck.”

 

Bucky nodded, zoning out just a little. Steve watched him munch on fries slowly, his blue eyes distant and unfocused. He couldn’t help but want to know what Bucky was thinking, what he was so focused on that stole his attention away from reality.

 

The truth was, Bucky had been thinking about his future. With Steve. Images of him and Steve hanging out, graduating together, the two of them at a wedding together, Steve playing with his child and laughing. . . It all looked so amazing.

 

Suddenly Bucky shook his head and looked to Steve. “Are you okay?” Bucky nodded and guzzled his shake.

 

“What we goin’ do Stevie?” Bucky asked, “We got all day and nothing to do.”

 

Steve was worried about his friend, but played along anyways. He’d have to keep an eye on the boy over the next few weeks.

# ~*~*~*~

 

With everything going on in Bucky’s life, he grew more and more thankful for Steve. No matter what, Steve was always there to cheer him up, make him smile, or simply sit with him. He’d make sure Bucky was okay when he got quiet and sad and he’d laugh along with him when he was in a good mood.

 

Steve had been pushed to the back burner, however, with the new Barnes’ baby and a hectic household of eight. He’d been relatively healthy, as healthy as a sickly child like Steve could be at least, so he didn’t draw much attention to himself. He was okay with it, as long as Bucky and his family were okay. He was just there whenever anyone needed him.

 

Which is why Bucky wanted to give Steve the best birthday he could imagine.

 

“Can I take him to Coney Island?” He asked Mrs. Rogers and his parents.

 

“I don’t think so, James,” George replied.

 

“What about the movies?”

 

“No, Bucky,” Winifred said with a sigh.

 

“Baseball game?”

 

George’s fist hit the table with a loud bang. Winifred and Sarah jumped as Bucky cowered back, the sound of Daisy screeching pulling them out of their trance. “Dammit, James. Can’t you see we don’t have any money? We can’t afford to send you and Steve off galavanting! Get your act together, son. If you want to take him out, you get yourself a damn job.”

 

“George, you and I both agreed he wasn’t getting a job at thirteen. And don’t you dare holler at him, he’s just a child.” Winifred rocked Daisy back and forth, a cold stone glare set on her face.

 

Sarah got up and moved to crouch before Bucky. In a calming voice she told him, “Bucky, dear, it’s really swell that you’re trying to give Steve a good birthday, but your father’s right. We’re not doing so well, or else you’d have gotten a new pair of pants already.” They both looked to Bucky’s ankles, where his pants stopped an inch or two higher than they should. “It means a lot to me that you care about Steve as much as I do, but we just can’t do a whole lot this year. I know that stinks, but,” Sarah sighed and patted Bucky’s knee, “we’re going to get through this. Okay?” Bucky nodded sadly and Sarah kissed his forehead. “Maybe you should apologize to your parents, yeah?”

 

“Sorry Ma, Dad,” Bucky said weekly.

 

“It’s okay, son. Sorry for snapping at you,” George said softly. Bucky mumbled an ‘it’s okay’ and excused himself from the room, swatting his father’s hand away from his hair playfully.

They were naive if they thought Bucky was going to give up that easy. He ran down the hall, where Steve and the other kids were getting ready for bed. “Where’ve you been?” Steve asked him, noticing how his eyes sparked with mischief.

 

“Just talkin’ to my parents, s’all.” Bucky shrugged and stepped into the closet to change. Steve nodded and waited for Bucky to get into bed. He knew Bucky liked to be on the right, where he was squished between Steve and the wall.

 

Bucky popped his head out and looked towards his siblings. Becky was already fast asleep and Eugene looked like he was pretty close to being out himself, so Bucky stepped out. In nothing but his underwear. “Hope you don’t mind,” Bucky whispered, “it gets way too hot in here.”

 

Steve shook his head, despite feeling awkward about the situation. He knew his room was the hottest in the house, that’s why it’s his to help him keep warm in the winter. Even in the summer Steve’s body always found a way to be cold. But he also knew Bucky was always warm and radiated heat, more so in his sleep. And Steve didn’t help any, not with his tendency to cuddle with Bucky in his sleep. He understood Bucky wanting to have as little on as he could. He didn’t mind at all.

 

However, his mind and body weren’t on the same page. He was awkward about the situation and when he climbed into bed beside Bucky, he didn’t immediately curl up next to him like usual. “Are you okay? You’re not mad at me are you?”

 

“Of course not,” Steve mumbled and hesitantly curled up next to Bucky.

 

“Your birthday’s tomorrow,” whispered Bucky after they laid there for a few minutes. He wrapped an arm around Steve and closed his eyes, not asleep but getting there.

 

“Yeah it is.” Steve closed his eyes, too. It helped him forget a little bit about the situation at hand.

 

“I’m gonna do something for you. I promise.” Bucky kissed Steve’s hair, just before they fell asleep.

 

When Bucky woke up the next morning, he got to work. He grabbed the picnic basket and stuffed it with everything he could think of that he’d need for the day. “James, why are you running around? We need that picnic basket for the Fourth of July picnic at the church,” George said as he walked in to see Bucky rushing around the place.

 

Bucky paused, glancing at the packed picnic basket filled with the most random of things. “What picnic?” He didn’t remember anyone saying they had a picnic to go to. They had never gone to picnics at churches before, they barely ever went to church in the first place. Then again, they had just joined the Rogers’ church earlier that year.

 

“The church has a picnic for just about every holiday, you know that. Your mother told the committee we’d be there, all of us.”

 

Bucky’s shoulders fell. “But it’s Steve’s birthday!”

 

“Sarah said they may go, too. It’s up to Steve.” George moved past Bucky and fixed himself a mug of coffee.

 

“But it’s his birthday and Steve doesn’t like those picnics. The kids there won’t let him play any so he’s stuck sitting with his mom all the time.” His parents had never done these kind of things, except for that one block party the neighbors had. They did family things instead, like going to the beach and visiting Winifred’s parents in the country. George hated church events.

 

“Well, that’s his decision. We’re going to the picnic.” Bucky was furious. Out of all the picnics and holidays, his parents had to choose Steve’s birthday to participate in church activities? That’s not fair at all. . .

 

Bucky turned to face his father, his shoulders back and his face focused with determination. With a deep breath, he spoke with as much confidence he could muster, “I’m not going.”

 

George turned around with his eyebrows furrowed. “Excuse me?”

 

“I’m not going. I want to give Steve a good birthday and that’s what I plan on doing. I’m not going to make him spend it at some picnic he doesn’t want to go to. You guys can go have fun, but I’m staying with Steve.” Bucky moved to leave, the picnic basket in his hand. “I’ll bring the basket back when I’m done.” He marched off, until George grabbed his arm.

 

“You listen here, son. I’m the parent. I’m your father. I make the decisions. You are going and you’re not going to complain.” George was spitting with rage, his face bright red and his knuckles white around Bucky’s arm. He was starting to hurt him. . . “Understand?”

 

Bucky shook his head. “No,” he mumbled weakly. Steve needed a good birthday, he deserved one. Why is he the only person to see this?

 

George was about to lay into Bucky when Winifred walked in with Sarah. “What’s going on here?” she asked.

 

“Your son doesn’t want to go to the picnic. He wants to stay here.” George sighed and dropped Bucky’s arm.

 

“Why?” Winifred looked at Bucky, concerned.

 

“I know Steve doesn’t like those picnics and it’s his birthday. I just want to give him a good birthday after all he’s done for me.” Bucky looked down at the filled basket, then back up to his mother and Mrs. Rogers.

 

Sarah placed her hands on her chest, her heart melting at the sight of how much Bucky loved Steve. “George, is it the end of the world if he stays with me and Steve? I can’t take Steve; not with how many people cook out and all the smoke. Steve’s asthma wouldn’t be able to take it,” she explained to the Barnes.

 

Winifred looked between her friend and her husband. “George, he’s going to be miserable if we make him go. You and I both know that. Any other holiday, he’d go. But this is Steve’s birthday, and if you know anything about our son then you’ll know that’s his favorite holiday.” Bucky nodded vigorously, making sure his father knew how true that statement was. “Just let him celebrate with Steve.”

 

George pinched the bridge of his nose and stood there for a moment. Bucky held his breath, clutching the basket with his own white knuckles. “Just bring the damn basket back,” George finally said with a wave of his hand.

 

Bucky gasped, a grin on his face. “Thanks Dad!” He hugged his father - the basket made it awkward - and rushed out the door. He spent the next ten minutes getting everything set up before he sprinted back down to get Stevie.

 

Winifred and Sarah were starting to fix breakfast, the smell seeping into every crevice of the home. Bucky grabbed Steve’s plate and a glass of milk, along with all of his vitamins, and carried them into the bedroom like the waiters at the diner. He walked carefully and prayed he wouldn’t spill anything.

 

He had never been so happy to see the door open.

 

Becky was already up and doing her hair, braiding it and tying it in ribbons. She was sitting on the cot, her legs crossed, and her face scrunched in concentration as her hands moved quickly. “Mind helping me set this stuff down?” Bucky asked her. She looked up with a small smile and nodded. They set the food down on the bedside table and Bucky took a deep breath. “Time to wake him up.”

 

Steve was sleeping peacefully, his breath coming out in quiet wheezes that always worried Bucky when he first woke up in the morning. He was cuddling Bucky’s pillow and drooling just a little bit, but Bucky was used to that now. It was better than his bed wetting days. . .

 

Bucky jumped up onto the bed and shouted, “Wake up, ya punk!” Steve woke up with a start and looked around the room. Becky and Bucky both laughed until Steve went into a coughing fit. “Hey, calm down kid.” Bucky handed him the glass of milk and helped him sit up. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah, I’m okay. What’s with the pancakes?” Steve asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

“It’s your birthday, silly! Happy twelfth buddy!” Bucky shouted just before he tackled Steve into a hug. Steve laughed, happy as ever, and hugged the boy back.

 

“Thanks Buck.” Bucky helped Steve get situated so he could eat his pancakes in peace, occasionally swiping bites of the strawberries Mrs. Rogers had put on Steve’s. “So what’s the plan for today?”

 

“You and I have special plans while my folks go to the church picnic. I have no idea what your momma’s gonna do,” Bucky admitted.

 

“Special plans?” Bucky winked at Steve, nodding. “Can I know?”

  
“Nope.”

 

“Can I get a hint?”

 

“Nope.”  


“Not even a little?”

 

“Nope.”

 

Steve sighed, but quickly shook it off. He ate faster, as fast as he could without choking or going into a coughing fit. Steve was excited to find out what they were going to do, what Bucky had planned.

 

Once he was finished, Steve got dressed and followed Bucky into the living room where everyone else was getting ready. “Happy birthday, my sweet baby boy!” Sarah rushed over to them, smothering Steve in hugs and kisses.

 

Steve blushed as Bucky snickered beside him. “Thanks Mom,” he mumbled as he hugged her just as tight.

 

She pulled away with a huge grin, her eyes getting watery. “I remember when you were born and the doctors telling me you were going to be a sickly child. Then you kept getting sick and I was all alone, but look at you! You’re a young man and you’re so healthy and happy.” Sarah started to cry and everyone started to avoid all eye contact with one another, worried they too may start crying. Especially Bucky. He didn’t like the reminder that Steve could possibly be gone the next morning thanks to an expected illness or whatever. “I’m just so proud of the man you’re becoming, Steven.” Sarah kissed Steve’s head again, holding him tight.

 

“Thank you, Mom, really.” Steve hugged her again before George announced they needed to start getting ready for the picnic. “You’re going, too?”

 

Sarah nodded with a sigh. “Ms. Walker’s upstairs and we’ll be back by the time you guys come back. I’m making your favorite-”

 

“Spaghetti and meatballs!” Steve cheered, jumping up and down just a little.

 

Honestly, Bucky’s heart melted.

 

Sarah laughed and kissed Steve’s head again. “Yes, we’re having spaghetti. Now why don’t you go with Bucky and have a good birthday, yeah?” Steve nodded and turned to Bucky.

 

Bucky was a grinning mess, completely stuck in his head with some brilliant new revelation. He shook his head, not wanting to think about it right now, and grabbed Steve’s hand. Then, with a giddy laugh from Steve, he ran out the door and all the way up the three flights of stairs to the rooftop.

 

On the roof, Bucky had set up a small tent made of an old sheet and held down by cement blocks left laying around by the people who built the place. Inside, he had board games, sketch books, art stuff, books, and anything else he could find that Steve loved to do.

 

Steve’s face lit up at the sight of the tent and he was absolutely giddy when he saw the contents of the tent. “Wow Buck, you did all this for me?”

 

“What can I say? I wanted to make your birthday special, kid. I hope it’s okay, my parents wouldn’t let me do anything else-” Steve cut off Bucky by hugging him tight. “‘M glad you like it.”

 

“It’s real swell. Thank you.” Steve eventually let Bucky go and crawled into the tent. Bucky followed him, glad he decided to cover the floor with pillows. They settled into their spots opposite of each other and for the rest of the day, they spent it in that tent and enjoyed each other’s company.

 

Steve was drawing the tent and Bucky, saying he wanted to remember it for another day. Bucky let him, watching with amazed eyes as Steve’s hand flew across the paper. His mind wandered back to his previous head space, to that new revelation he had hours before.

 

Bucky had been thinking of Steve and their friendship, but instead of being just best friends. . . Bucky had played with the idea of them being more. He wanted to keep Steve away from everyone, all to himself, and shelter him from the world that Bucky was starting to hate. He hated that Steve was always getting sick and bullied, he just wanted to protect him.

 

And he had a really strong urge to kiss him.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Steve asked.

 

“That you better not make my eyebrows look weird,” Bucky said instantly with a smirk on his lips.

 

“Not my fault they look weird already.”

 

“I suppose not.”

 

They had to leave for dinner. But they came back to pull the sheet down. Bucky leaned against the chair he brought up to make the tent, his arms wrapped around Steve. “Think they’ll show up soon?”

 

“It’s dusk and the Fourth of July, I think they’ll show up soon.” Bucky leaned his head on Steve’s and enjoyed holding him, even if it was for this moment alone.

 

And then the fireworks burst into the sky. Steve’s face lit up with wonder and excitement, the colors dancing across his face in waves. Bucky watched as the shade of his blue eyes changed with the colors of the fireworks. He watched as Steve’s jaw dropped and his breathing calmed. He watched as Steve giggled and turned to a new firework.

 

“Happy birthday, Stevie.”

 

“Thanks, Bucky. For everything.” Steve hugged the boy tight and Bucky closed his eyes, enjoying the moment.

 

Bucky was okay with this newfound idea. He liked the idea of being with Steve like this.

  
He was okay with falling for the blonde. 


	7. 1932

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't edited. . . Sorry, I wanted to post it before I left for vacation. 
> 
> I did start the blog. It's the same one-shots I have on here for the moment, but soon there will be more! Check it out!
> 
> thesteveandbuckystory.tumblr.com

_ Chapter Six _

 

#  **1932**

 

After working at the hospital for almost three years, George got a small promotion. It was enough for the Barnes’ to get an apartment in the Rogers’ building. They were right next to Ms. Walker, rather Mrs. Thompson since she finally got married last fall. Bucky and Steve were happy, especially since Steve was going to be in high school come autumn. They were going to spend as much time together as they could. 

 

Bucky was already in high school, however, and already had a group of friends. 

 

He walked into the high school courtyard, one hand carrying his books and the other stuffed in his pocket. “Look who it is, fellas! It’s Bucky!” Walter Quinn yelled as he walked towards him. 

 

Bucky laughed and shook their hands. “Morning, boys.” 

 

“How was your weekend?” Bobby asked. 

 

“It was good. I scoured enough money for Steve and I to go to Coney Island-” 

 

“Steve, that’s your neighbor friend right? The kid you watch for his mom?” Walter asked.

 

Bucky shook his head. “No, Steve’s my best friend. Yeah we live in the same building and his mom asked me to keep an eye on him when we first started hanging out years ago, but I hang out with him because I want to.” 

 

“But doesn’t he have some disease?” 

 

Bucky gave Stanley a weird look and shook his head again. “No, he doesn’t have a disease. He just has a weak immune system. It’s not his fault-”

 

“But he’s always sick?” 

 

“Guys, it doesn’t matter. Steve and I are friends and that’s all that matters.” Bucky started for the school doors, the other boys following close behind him.

 

“Is Steve the reason you don’t have a girlfriend?” Bobby asked.

 

Bucky stopped. “That makes no sense, Bob.” 

 

“Yeah it does. If you’re constantly hanging out with this Steve kid, then you don’t have time for a girlfriend. Simple as that.” 

 

Bucky raised an eyebrow and shook his head once again. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

 

“Do you hang out with anyone else outside of school?”

 

“Well, no-”

 

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

 

“No-”

 

“Then you can’t prove that Steve isn’t the reason you don’t have a girlfriend.” 

 

If Bucky was being honest with himself, Steve was the reason. Over the past two years, Bucky hadn’t even thought of dating a girl. Instead, he dreamed of Steve. Steve holding his hand, Steve laughing at his jokes, Steve kissing him, holding Steve all night long, taking Steve on a date. . . Despite the fact he already does half of these things, Bucky wanted Steve to want to do the same things.

 

“Whatever,” Bucky mumbled as they walked inside the building. “I’ll see you guys at lunch.” He walked on to his first class, his mind clouded with thoughts. 

 

He really did like Stevie and he did so completely and helplessly. It was to the point that Bucky would do anything just to spend time with him. But he knows that it’s not allowed. Boys and boys don’t go together. He learned that a couple of weeks ago when the new kid in his class accidentally bumped into another boy in the cafeteria. 

 

The cafeteria was chaotic, with kids shouting and laughing over each other. Bucky usually kept to himself, nodding to kids who waved and called out to him. Despite his popularity, Bucky was shy. Sure he’d take charge around Steve and his siblings, but in reality. . . Bucky was nervous, like all of the time. It was all an act for him, to be courageous and brave in the eyes of others when in reality he was worse than a small dog. 

 

He sat his tray down at an empty table, a small smile on his face as he sat down. He liked eating alone, sometimes. It was a nice break from the constant chatter of his classmates. But it never lasted the full period, as someone would always sit with him. 

 

Sure enough, Mary Carlowitz sat down beside him with a shy smile and the prettiest eyes. Bucky had always thought Mary had pretty eyes, not as pretty as Steve’s, but pretty. He stopped and frowned to himself. He really needed to stop thinking of Steve like this. “Are you okay?” Mary asked, one of her dainty hands on top of his. 

Bucky put on his most charming smile he could and said, “Oh yeah, I’m great. Just thinking of all the people who don't have the opportunity to say they met an angel, unlike myself. It’s a shame that I was blessed with this magical angel attracting gift, but I must say. . .” He gave a long whistle and winked at her. “Damn am I lucky.”

 

Mary’s face was as bright as a newly blossomed rose and a giggle escaped her plump, pink lips. “You really think I’m an angel?”

 

“If you aren’t, then you sure do look like one. Might just be the prettiest gal I’ve ever seen.” Next thing Bucky know’s, he’s kissing Mary in the janitor’s closet down the hall. 

 

Ever since that day, the angel line’s his go-to pick-up line. And it sure does work. 

 

Bucky was quickly the school’s most charming boy, dating any girl he could get his hands on. He remained the utmost of gentlemen, however, and treated every girl he was with with the respect she deserved.

 

It was the only way to get over Steve, he’d remind himself whenever he kissed a girl or held her hand. 

 

Steve, on the other hand, couldn’t keep up with how many girls he was with. “I don’t like you being with all these girls,” he told Bucky one night when Bucky stayed at the Rogers’ house. 

 

“Why not?” Bucky asked, scrubbing at his boots with an old rag. “Everybody else thinks it’s cool.”

 

Steve crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow. “Do I look like someone who follows what’s cool?” He sniffled a little, his voice thick with congestion of his newest cold.

 

“No, but some of my authentic greatness must have rubbed off on you somewhere.” Bucky winked at him. “Besides why does it matter?”

 

“It just doesn’t seem like you’re treating these girls with respect.”

 

Bucky stopped and pointed at the younger boy, “I’ll have you know, I know how to treat a dame.” 

 

Steve rolled his eyes and set down his homework. “I’m not saying you don’t. I’m just saying breaking up with a girl and getting with another in the same day, that’s not exactly gentleman like. What would your ma say if I told her?” Bucky’s eyes widened and he shook his head as fast as he could. “Then it’s not right.”

 

Bucky sighed and dropped his rag. “Fine. I’ll wait a day.” 

 

“That’s a little better, I guess,” Steve mumbled before he went back to his homework. 

Bucky did start to space out his dates, but he only grew more and more popular. 

#  ~*~*~*~

School was over and Steve was done with middle school. He was excited to start high school with Bucky come the fall, especially since some of his bullies weren’t going to his school. “You think I’ll be okay in high school?” Steve asked Bucky one day. 

 

“Probably.” 

 

“Probably? C’mon, Buck. Gimme a good answer,” Steve huffed. 

 

“I don’t know Steve,” Bucky sighed. 

 

Steve’s shoulders fell as he deflated. Something was off with Bucky, but he couldn’t figure out what exactly. They walked along the street, shoulders bumping every now and then. Steve’s mind was running around in circles trying to figure out why Bucky was so upset. 

 

"Hey James!" A girl about their age in a pretty blue dress and blonde pigtails called. Bucky's face lit up like a lightbulb as he headed towards her. "Hi," she giggled. 

 

"Maggie, what a pleasant surprise," Bucky said, slipping into his laid back facade. "What's a pretty gal like you doing all by herself?"

 

"Quinn and I were just going to the ice cream parlor down the street," she told him. 

 

"Oh really now?" He looked from Maggie to Quinn, who materialized beside her wearing almost the same outfit but purple. Bucky almost forgot they were twins. 

 

"Yeah, but we sure wouldn't mind if you'd walk with us?" Quinn said shyly, swaying a little on her feet. 

 

"Good, because neither do I." He turned to Steve, a hopeful smile on his face. "Whatcha say, Stevie? Wanna take these two beautiful dames to the ice cream parlor?" 

 

Steve raised an eyebrow, his nose crinkling just a little. "Buck, we ca-" Bucky slapped his hand over his mouth, laughing a little. 

 

"Will you excuse us, ladies?" They both nodded and giggled as Bucky walked a few steps away, hand planted on Steve's mouth. He stopped, turned Steve to face him, and let his hand fall. 

 

"What was all that?" Steve was mad now. Bucky had never treated him this way. "Since when do you go by James, anyways? And you and I both know our folks can't afford for us to go buy a couple of dames ice cream, which I know you'll end up doing cause you’re a good guy. Which means I'll end up doing it." 

 

Bucky sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "C'mon Steve, live a little! I just got us a date with twins and you wanna pass it up cause we can't afford it? Steve, don't be a punk. We can make it up to our folks or something later. Just come with me and help me take these dames out!” He was getting impatient and aggravated at Steve, without any real reason as to why. 

 

Steve shook his head, his bangs falling over his eyes. “I just don’t know about this, Buck.” 

 

“Then go home,” Bucky snapped. Steve took a step back, his face contorted in a mixture of hurt and shame. He started to walk away when Bucky’s face fell with realization. He wanted to stop him, to say he’s sorry, but somehow. . . he couldn’t. 

 

Bucky turned back to the twins, slapped a big grin on his face, and walked as smooth as he could towards them. “Ready girls?”

 

“What happened to your friend?” Maggie asked as they started towards the ice cream parlor. 

 

Bucky looked back at Steve, who looked kinda sad as he walked home alone. “Wasn’t feelin’ well, s’all.” The girls nodded, but quickly went on to chatter about their day and the daily gossip. 

 

Steve walked along the street, hands stuffed in his pocket and his head down. His brain was running a mile a minute just trying to figure out what was wrong with Bucky. He just wanted to make Bucky feel better, or to at least try and help him through whatever was going on. . .

 

He was so lost in thought, he didn’t see the trash can until he tripped over it. He screamed in surprise as he tumbled down the sidewalk a few feet. Trash went everywhere, all in his hair, in his shorts, in his shoes, in the plants that lined the building it was in front of, and it was all Steve’s fault. A deep shade of red spread over his body as he stood up. A group of older boys and girls across the street laughed at him, pointing and hiding their giggles behind their hands. He huffed and dusted himself off, noticing a couple new bruises and a nice little scrape on his knee. 

 

With a sigh, he started to pick up the trash and the trash can. A man from the building started to yell at him to hurry up, raising his fist and his voice. Steve did his best to pick it all up and fast. He just wanted to go home, at this point. When he finally did get it all cleaned up, he apologized again and started for his building down the block. 

 

A couple of the boys followed him, making comments from across the street and causing a scene. They were starting to get on Steve’s nerves, with their taunts and laughs echoing between Steve’s ears. He’d had a bad day, what with Bucky pushing him aside and the trash can, not to mention his asthma was acting up, not that he would tell anyone that. He just wanted to go home, maybe read that new book his mom found. 

 

“Look, fellas, he’s as red as a rotten tomato!” one boy shouted, pointing at Steve. 

 

“Probably smells like one too!” another laughed. 

 

Steve’s hands became fists in his pockets, his face now a scowl. They were still across the street, which was starting to irritate Steve all in itself. That’s probably what prompted him to yell, “Why don’t you cowards say it to my face!” 

 

Steve, for once, didn’t regret telling them off. Not even when they stormed over and drug him into the alley. They took turns throwing punches at him, kicking him wherever they could. Steve did his best to defend himself, jabbing at their torsos and kicking their thighs. 

 

It only got harder when he struggled to breathe. He tried his best not to cry, instead to stand tall and take anything they were going to give him. And he didn’t, at least for the a while. Whenever he fell, he’d jump back up and take some more. Whenever he felt like stopping, he thought of them hurting one of his friends or a nice young dame. 

 

He really hated these bully types. 

 

“God, this kid’s stupid,” someone said as Steve jumped back up, swaying a little from the impact.

 

“Just doesn’t stop, does he?” 

 

“We need to hurry this along, we gotta be gettin’ home soon.” 

 

“I got this,” one of the bigger guys said. 

 

Suddenly, he was pounding his fists into Steve’s torso. He tried his best to stop him, but the guy just wasn’t giving up. Steve wanted to beg him to stop, but his pride wouldn’t let him. And then, with a grunt, the guy slammed Steve down on an angle. 

 

He cried out in pain as a loud snap echoed through the alley, bouncing off the brick walls. The guys looked at him in horror as he cradled his arm in his hand, his forearm bent at an awkward angle. They scrambled away, yelling nonsense as they did so. 

 

Steve was a crying mess and his whole body hurt more than he’s ever experienced. He just laid there, cradling his arm and hoping it’d be healed before he went home. He didn’t know what else to do, despite all of his logic that screamed to find help. 

 

It didn’t take long before he passed out from the pain. 

 

When he woke up, he decided he really did need to go home. He mustered up all of his strength and stood up. With a deep breath, he started to hobble out the alley and down the street. 

 

Sarah Rogers was just getting home, thankful to get off early after almost two full days off working nonstop. She was stood on the doorstep of the building, chatting with one of the neighbors when they pointed out Steve’s fragile, weak body trudging down the sidewalk. She gasped, dropped her belongings, and rushed to his side, a frantic mess. “What happened?” she demanded as she carefully looked him over.

 

Steve was blubbering, trying to explain what happened without getting him in trouble. He was still cradling his broken arm, which was bent, swollen, and a nasty shade of purple. Sarah went into full nurse mode as she ushered him inside, mumbling to herself about random things. 

 

A couple of hours later, Steve was on his way back home with a brand new cast supporting his arm. “How long am I supposed to wear this?” 

 

“A couple of weeks.” 

 

“How am I supposed to shower?”

 

“We’ll cover it up, or you can just stick it outside the curtain.”

 

“Is it gonna be itchy?”

 

“Probably.”

 

“Is it going to stink?”

 

“Most likely.”

 

“Can I draw on it?”

 

“I don’t see why not.”

 

Steve nodded and kept on, still walking a bit sluggish. They were just a few doors down from their building finally, and Steve was so excited to curl up in bed and sleep off his bumps and bruises. He knew his mother was mad for not telling him the full truth, but she respected his privacy enough not to push him. 

 

“Steve!” Steve looked up to see Bucky jogging towards them. He gave him a weak smile, a feeling of guilt washing over him as he spotted how worried Bucky looked. 

 

“What happened?” Bucky was frantic and worried and. . .lost. He came home to find out Mrs. Rogers took Steve to the hospital because Steve broke his arm. To say he panicked is an understatement. 

 

“I’m going to go warm up dinner, okay?” Sarah told Steve gently. He nodded and hobbled over to the stairs after her, not letting Bucky help him in any way. He’s not going to lie, he’s a little embarrassed about this situation. 

 

They sat on the steps for a moment after Sarah went inside. They sat a bit apart, both of them watching the street calm down as the sun set behind the buildings in front of them. 

 

Steve didn’t want to talk. 

 

Bucky was boiling, just waiting for the signal to let it all out. 

 

Steve knew this wasn’t going to be a fun conversation.

 

“What happened?” Bucky asked again, his voice eerily calm and quiet. 

 

Steve didn’t answer immediately. It took him a bit longer to answer. “Was on my way home-”

 

“Do not,” Bucky looked up, his jaw clenched, “tell me what I think you’re about to.” He glanced at an ashamed Steve, his head hanging and his hair falling over his eyes. His anger boiled, his jaw clenched even harder, his fists formed, and his shoulders were tense as he sat there processing the information. 

 

Bucky stood and paced in front of the steps a little. He was so mad at himself it was pathetic. How could he be so stupid to push Steve away? If only he’d been a bit nicer to Steve, especially since he was right. The twins ignored him the entire time, until he paid of course. It was just awful. 

 

If Steve had gone, it would have been better. If he had gone, this wouldn’t have happened. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered with tears in his eyes. 

 

Bucky met his eyes and he fell apart. “Oh Stevie, don’t.” He sat back down beside him and pulled Steve close. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I. .”

 

“Can we just, you know, forgive each other?” Steve mumbled into Bucky’s shoulder.

 

“Absolutely,” Bucky whispered, his cheek resting on Steve’s head.

#  ~*~*~*~

Steve had just gotten his cast off by the time school started. He was so excited to be back with Bucky and spend even more time with him. He wasn’t even nervous about high school itself, not when he knew Bucky would be beside him through it all. It’d be just the two of them.

 

Steve got a rude awakening. 

 

Bucky was more popular than Steve thought. As they walked into the courtyard on the first day, everyone was waving and calling out to him. Steve knew Bucky was popular, but he didn’t expect this. “How many people do you know?”

 

“I don’t know,” Bucky said with a laugh.

 

Steve was in awe as he watched Bucky high-five and hug random people, smiling at whoever he saw. With his arm broken, Bucky was practically glued to his side. Now, Steve was worried Bucky wouldn’t want to be with him as much. 

 

“C’mon, I’ll show you your first block,” Bucky told him. He slung an arm over Steve’s shoulders and guided him into the building. 

 

Steve grinned as they walked along the halls. “Our schedules aren’t at all similar given our grade levels,” Bucky said, “but our classes are close to each other so I’ll meet up with you to walk with you to our next classes. And we have the same lunch and study hall, so we can hang out then.” 

 

“Thanks Bucky,” Steve whispered to him over the commotion in the hallway. Bucky was beaming, not even bothering with his cool facade any longer. Not when his Stevie was around. 

 

And he kept his word. He walked Steve to all his classes and sat together at lunch and study hall. It was perfect. . . Almost too perfect. Steve got the feeling this wasn’t going to last long. Sure they’ll sit together at lunch and study hall, but walking together and spending as much time together was sure to annoy Bucky sooner or later. Or hurt him in some way. 

 

Steve had noticed how Bucky shrugged off his friends when they called, or talked very little with them when he was around. Steve knew it was important that Bucky had other friends, especially since they were so close. 

 

“Hey Buck, why don’t you sit with your friends?” Steve asked. He already had his mind set, he’d push Bucky towards his friends and explain later. 

 

Bucky shrugged. “They’re just not that interesting, I guess.” 

 

“But they’re your friends. You’ve blown them off twice already, why don’t you hang out with them? Is it because I’m here?” Steve made sure to give him the puppy dog eyes, too. He wanted Bucky to be happy, and if that meant he didn’t get to spend as much time with him then oh well. Their friendship, Steve believed, is strong enough that they don’t have to spend every minute together. He knew that, he just needed to make sure Bucky knew that.

 

Bucky avoided all eye contact. He heard it in Steve’s voice that he was playing the puppy dog card. _Don’t fall for it_ , Bucky thought, _Do not fall for it,_ _Buck_. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “No, Stevie. I just don’t like hanging out with them as much as I do you. Besides it’s your first day, I wanna spend it with you.” 

 

Steve sighed. “We can’t do this everyday, Bucky,” Steve whispered as he leaned closer over his book. “Can we just spend as much time together this week? Then you can start hanging out with your other friends again and I can try to make more friends. I might even get a girl.” Bucky laughed at that, he covered his mouth and eyed the teacher to make sure he didn’t hear. “Besides, how am I supposed to cause trouble with you here?” 

 

“Alright, fine,” Bucky said with a sigh, “we’ll do that. But you sit with me at lunch. I don’t trust some of these people.”

 

“Deal,” Steve stuck his hand out and Bucky took it. 

 

They stuck to that deal the rest of the semester. It didn’t help Steve avoid bullies, but he managed to hold his own. It did help Bucky teaches him to fight every evening after work. He got a job about a month into school at the local grocer, it didn’t pay much but it helped his family out. 

 

“Put your shoulder back,” Bucky told Steve. He had his hands up and his feet planted in a defensive and grounded stance, waiting for Steve to punch his hands. “Jab, jab, right hook, jab, right hook,” Bucky called and Steve did just that. “Nice work.” 

 

“You aren’t just saying that, are ya?” Steve asked, out of breath.

 

“No. You’re doing really well kid,” Bucky told him. He meant it, too. Since they started working out together, Steve had improved immensely. His punches were weak, but at least he wouldn’t hurt himself by throwing a punch anymore. He had a real nice form and his body was starting to become leaner instead of just plain ol’ skinny. 

 

Not that Bucky noticed or anything. . .

 

“Let’s stop for today, yeah?” Steve nodded and plopped down on his bed. Bucky laid beside him, almost asleep the second he fell onto the bed. 

 

“Thanks for being there for me, Buck. And teaching me.” 

“I always said I would, didn’t I? I don’t go back on my word.”

 

“No, you don’t.” They both shared a secret smile, one they never shared with anyone else. As silence fell around them, neither of them cared. It was just nice laying with one another, not saying a word. Just existing. 

  
That’s all Steve wanted in life, to exist with Bucky.  


	8. 1933

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got carried away with the length of the chapter, but as the boys get older the chapters will be longer. Things get serious in this one. . . Enjoy!

_ Chapter Seven _

 

#  **1933**

By some miracle, Steve was a little popular. It was mostly because of him hanging out with Bucky, but he was known nonetheless. That didn’t mean he had friends, though, people just knew his name. Steve didn’t mind, even when people had the guts to pick on him. He always knew Bucky was around the corner, ready to jump into any fight to protect his best friend. Even when Steve picks the fight. 

 

“Think it’ll snow again tonight? I wanna build a pillow fort and curl up with hot chocolate and draw while you read and-” 

 

Bucky cut Steve off with a laugh as he threw an arm over Steve’s shoulders. “You’re such a romantic with these ideas, Stevie.” A blush fluttered across their cheeks, they both blamed it on the cold. “If it snows, you know we’ll do just that. If not, we can still do that ‘cause you’d freeze your ass off it wasn’t for me,” Bucky told him with a wink.

 

“Shut up, jerk.” Steve laughed, pushing Bucky lightly. They were both laughing, with big ole grins and their sides aching. 

 

“Seriously, though, you’re an icicle. How do you stay that cold?” Steve shrugged and leaned closer to Bucky as the wind picked up a little. 

 

It was the middle of February and it was freezing cold outside to Steve, despite his coat and Bucky’s warmth slipping through the fabrics. He was little and prone to getting sick, which is why Sarah thinks he stays cold. 

 

“One day,” Steve said with a dreamy sigh, “I won’t be. I’ll never be sick and I’ll be warm, instead of cold all the time.” 

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah. And you’ll be complaining to me about how your cold, but I’ll be in nothing but my trousers in the middle of winter.” Steve laughed, not quite sure what he was saying. 

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You’re such a crumb.” Steve slapped Bucky’s stomach playfully. They laughed a bit more, until they turned the corner to see the school. “Damn, I don’t wanna go back. This morning was rough as it is and I gotta test in my next class.” 

 

“That the one I helped you study for back home?”

 

“Bingo.” 

 

“You’ll do fine. Just take a deep breath and focus. Ain’t that what you tell me?” 

 

Bucky looked down at a smirking Steve. “Shut up, punk.” They laughed again and walked into the courtyard. “Look,” Bucky pulled Steve in closer and pointed at three girls dressed in various floral dresses.

 

“That the gal you been tellin’ me about? Julie, was it?”

 

“Jean. She’s the dame in the blue,” Bucky said. His voice was lighter and his eyes brighter, Steve knew he liked what he saw. 

 

Steve looked back at the girls, watching them laugh and giggle to themselves. That’s when he noticed the smaller one with the brown curls that rested on her shoulders and the prettiest pink dress. She looked like a porcelain doll, as if her features were painted on by an artist. She was a piece of art.

 

Steve couldn’t help but admire works of art, it’d be wrong of him to ignore anything artistic. 

 

“Who’s the girl in pink?” Steve asked Bucky, who looked down at him with a smirk and knowing eyes.

 

“Steven Grant Rogers, are you telling me you might like a girl?” 

 

“Shut up.” 

 

With a laugh, Bucky marched over to the girls. He ran a hand over his slicked hair and fixed his collar. He looked over his shoulder, making sure Steve was following, and carried on with the flirtiest smirk he could manage. “Hello ladies, how are you this beautiful winter day?” 

 

Steve stuck his hands in his pockets and shyly made his way over to the girls. Jean blushed and said, “Absolutely swell.” 

 

“Well that’s just grand!” Bucky said, his eyebrows raising a little as he bounced a little on his feet. “While I know your name, doll, would you mind introducing your friends to me and my good pal Steve?” He hooked his arm around Steve’s neck, pulling him closer. Steve chuckled a little, pushing him away and standing up straighter.

 

“Well of course,” Jean said. She pointed to the girl in pink, “This is my sister June,” and then to the third girl in yellow, “and my cousin Eileen. Girls, this is my friend James. He’s in my academic classes.” 

 

Bucky shook both of their hands, a grin on his face. “Pleasure to meet you. Like I mentioned, this is my friend Steve.” He patted Steve’s shoulder as Steve stumbled to shake their hands. 

 

Eileen smiled, but turned to Jean and whispered something. Then, with a quick goodbye, she scampered off into the building. “Excuse her, she’s gotta go talk to a teacher.” 

 

“Not a problem. What are you two ladies doing tonight?” Bucky asked.

  
“Nothing, I don’t think,” Jean said. 

 

Bucky and Steve both shared a smile and turned back to the girls. “Mind if we take you ladies out? Maybe get a milkshake from the diner down the street?” 

 

Jean and June looked to one another and nodded. All four of them were full of smiles and blushing like tomatoes as they headed into the building for class. “We’ll meet you both by the gate after school.” 

 

“We’d like that,” Jean told him. “Until then.” 

 

Steve and Bucky hung back, watching as the girls walked down the hall until they split to go their separate ways. “I just scored you your first date. Maybe even your first girlfriend. I think that’s better than a night stuck inside.” Steve laughed, but he couldn’t argue.

 

That night, Steve and June got really close. They both liked to draw and they both were a bit shy, so they connected really well. Bucky and Jean did too, but Jean was a bit more enthusiastic about the connection than Bucky was. He was still trying to wrap his head around Steve being with a girl.

 

By the end of the week, Bucky and Jean were together. Come next week, Steve and June had decided to go steady, too. 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Steve couldn’t have been happier. He and June were inseparable and he was just happy to be with a girl who didn’t care that he was as small as her. It made it all that much better that they spent most of their time together with Bucky and Jean. 

 

“What should we do today?” Steve asked as the four of them sat on the steps of the girls’ building. 

 

“Well, Dad gave me and you some money to do something. Not much, but enough to buy us some snacks or get us somewhere,” Bucky said. He was leaning against the rail, with his arms around Jean. 

 

“It’s a pretty day outside, maybe we should go to the beach?” Jean asked, turning to face Bucky. They were almost an inch between them, their noses almost touching. They were sharing a look so intimate, it almost made Steve want to look away. But he couldn’t help but admire how Bucky looked when he leaned in for a kiss. How he closed his eyes and gently caressed Jean’s lips with his. 

 

‘ _ I wonder if I’ll ever look that good at kissing _ ,’ he thought as he tore his eyes away to smile at June. She smiled back as a wet, suction sound announced that Bucky and Jean had pulled away from each other. 

 

“So, to the beach?” Bucky asked with a kiss to Jean’s head. 

 

“Sounds great,” June said. Steve and Bucky jumped down from the rails and helped the girls down. The group walked hand-in-hand down the street, June and Steve walking behind Bucky and Jean. 

 

Steve loved watching Bucky and Jean interact, mainly how Bucky interacted with her. There was something special about how he could flip on the ‘gentleman switch’ as he tended to call it. He’d go from joking and playful, to the sweetest being Steve knew. He’d go from horseplaying to cuddling in a matter of minutes. He’d be pissed off at something, only to turn around and shower Jean with smiles and laughs, forced or natural.

 

Part of Steve wished he was the one that made Bucky flip the switch. 

 

The group hopped on a bus and traveled down to the beach. Bucky paid the fare, mumbling something about saving most of it for the ride back home. With the chill still in the air, there weren’t many people on the beach. A group of people were on the far side, with a family of three not far away. 

 

“Let’s go sit on the other side of the rocks,” Jean said as she tugged on Bucky’s hand. The two raced down to the rocks and Bucky helped her climb over them in her dress. He had to help Steve and June, too, much to Steve’s embarrassment. 

 

“Good thing it’s too cold to swim,” June started as they sat down in the sand, “none of us have bathing suits.” 

 

“I don’t feel like swimming anyways. Momma said we’re having guests over tonight from Daddy’s job. I want to look my very best for it so he might get a promotion,” Jean explained. 

 

“I thought that was tomorrow?” June asked. The girls started to talk about the dinner, what it was and why it was happening, while Bucky and Steve watched the waves crash against the ocean. 

 

“Looks inviting,” Steve said quietly.

“Looks cold,” Bucky countered.

 

“Think Ma would be mad if I swam?” 

 

“Probably. But you aren’t, so there’s that.” Bucky gave him a pointed look, his arms hugging his knees to his chest. Steve copied his movements, his head resting on his knees. 

 

“Why not?” Steve pouted, his bottom lip pushed out as far as he could. 

 

“Too cold. You’ll freeze to death or worse get sick.” Steve rolled his eyes and stood up. He took off his shoes and socks and walked down to the water’s edge. “Steven Grant Rogers, if you step foot in that water I swear I will beat you,” Bucky called as he kicked off his own shoes and socks. 

 

Steve laughed and slowly put his foot in the water, laughing as Bucky raced down towards him. As Bucky got closer, Steve got farther into the water until his knees hit the water. He didn’t want to go any farther, not with his shorts on at least. It was cold, yes, but not as cold as he expected. 

 

Bucky was mumbling curses under his breath as he tried to wade through the water. His body was rigid and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. “Dear God, this is cold,” he hissed. 

 

“I thought I was the one who couldn’t handle the cold?” Steve teased, splashing around enough to barely reach Bucky’s thighs. 

 

Bucky looked up with a glare that could have killed Steve. “Watch it, punk,” he warned. 

 

“It’s not that bad.” Steve laughed and walked around Bucky to get out of the water. Sand clung to his wet feet as he walked backwards to keep his eyes on Bucky, who was scrambling out the water as best as he could without getting splashed. As soon as he managed to land both feet on the damp sand, he sprinted after Steve. 

 

Steve let out a small yelp as he tried to run, making sure not to kick sand up at the girls or Bucky. He couldn’t help but laugh as Bucky called out to him to “get his skinny ass over here.” Even Bucky was having trouble keeping his laughter in. 

 

Steve’s chest started to tighten by the time Bucky grabbed him, but he still erupted with laughter. Bucky picked Steve up and carefully slammed him onto the beach, tackling him playfully. “This is what you get,” Bucky told him. Steve calmed down for a moment and started to speak when Bucky’s fingers started to tickle up and down his sides. 

 

“No, leave m-me alone!” Steve shouted through his laughter. He tried to push Bucky off him or at least push his hands away, but his weak arms failed him. Both of them were laughing their butts off with grins that could brighten the darkest of rooms. 

 

And then his chest got tighter and tighter. “Stop, B-Buck! C-can’t brea-” Bucky was already off him, cradling him into his arms with a look of panic and fear.

 

“Shit, Stevie! I’m sorry,” Bucky told him. “Deep breath. You’re okay. I’ve got you,” he whispered. They sat there for a moment, until Jean called out to them. “Be there in a sec!” Bucky yelled back. He scooped Steve in his arms and trudged over to the girls, still worried about the small blonde. 

 

“What happened?”

 

“Asthma, s’all. He’ll be okay. He didn’t go into full blown attack, not yet at least,” Bucky explained as he sat Steve down carefully. 

 

The group sat beside him, lined up to face the ocean. No one said anything as Steve caught his breath, no one knew what to say. Bucky was still freaking out a little, the guilt seeping into his brain like a flash flood. He gripped Steve’s right hand in his left like he depended on it, his own right hand caressing Jean’s left. 

 

“C’mon, let’s take a walk,” Jean whispered to Bucky. 

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Steve’s-”

 

“No, just me and you,” she corrected him. “He’s stressing you out, whether you see it or not. We’ll take a walk and relax for a bit, help you stop worrying about him for a minute.” 

 

Bucky glanced at Steve who was watching the waves crash against the rocks with a look of appreciation. His inner artist was showing and Bucky absolutely adored it. 

 

Maybe Jean was right, maybe it would help if he stepped away. He hadn’t really hung out with her by himself, not without June and/or Steve being nearby. . . 

 

He leaned over and whispered in Steve’s ear, “You okay if Jean and I go for a walk?” 

 

Steve nodded. “‘Course. Be careful, we’ll be here.” Bucky nodded and kissed Steve’s hair lightly, still extremely worried about the boy. He hoped no one noticed. . . He jumped up and helped Jean stand, smiling warmly at the younger couple. 

 

“Be back soon,” Bucky told them as he took Jean’s hand. They walked down the beach, hands clasped and feet in sync. Steve watched them walk, before he turned his attention back to the ocean in front of him. 

 

After a while, June asked him with a bored expression, “Is the water nice?”

 

“Bit cold,” Steve admitted, “but nice nonetheless.” 

June nodded. “Want to go back down? Or are you not healthy enough?” She knew Steve was always sick, it’s why she hasn’t kissed him yet. 

 

“Sure,” Steve said with a shrug. He stood up and helped June stand before they both walked down to the cool water. Steve waded in easily, but June needed another minute or two. 

 

The more Steve waded in the water, the more he wanted to swim. “Mind if I swim?” Steve asked, already getting ready to tug at his shirt. June shook her head and Steve walked back up to their shoes, all four pair neatly lined up. He slipped out of his shorts and shrugged his shirt off, before racing back down to the water. 

 

A thrill passed over him as he plunged back into the water, sure not to splash June. He’d never done this before, the whole swimming in his underwear, nor had he thought he would. If his mom was here, she would be dragging him out and scolding him for being so stupid. But what could he say? He just wanted to enjoy the water and have a little fun, even if June didn’t want to swim or anything. It was nice to just bounce in the waves. He even jumped off one of the rocks, but he scraped his knee on it trying to climb up. 

 

He ended up splashing June a bit when he jumped in, which didn’t make her all that happy. But he didn’t care. He was enjoying himself too much to worry about that. 

 

June walked back to their things, arms crossed and her lips pursed in a sour expression. She hated this. She didn’t even want to be with Steve, much less at the beach. She was only here for her sister, so she could see Bucky. If she was quite honest, she didn’t really think of Steve as her boyfriend, more like a really close friend. Scratch that, more like a good friend. But she had to be with Steve, or else Daddy wouldn’t let Jean see Bucky. 

 

When Bucky and Jean got back, both of them were giggling messes. Bucky didn’t even mind seeing Steve swimming all by himself in the freezing water. He didn’t automatically think of all Steve’s illness and ailments, but rather how amazing it was to see Steve happy. Hell, he even toyed with the idea of joining him. 

 

Steve got out, grinning. “Have a nice walk?” He asked, trying to keep his distance from the three. He didn’t want to drip all over their shoes or them. 

 

“Better than I expected,” Bucky said as he shared a knowing look with Jean. She blushed and evaporated into giggles. 

 

That’s when Steve got a good look at the two. He noticed how swollen and red their lips looked, how Bucky’s hair was perfect like he always kept it, how Bucky’s shirt was wrinkled a bit, and how Jean’s hair wasn’t pinned back anymore, but rather around her shoulders in a loose curl. Something happened on their walk and Steve intended to find out later. . . 

 

“We should probably get going once you dry off,” June suggested as she stood up. Everyone glanced down to Steve, who was still dripping wet. He blushed, avoiding eye contact. 

 

“C’mon, I’ll help you sit on the rocks. You’ll dry a bit faster up there,” Bucky said. He slung an arm over Steve’s shoulders and guided him over to the rocks. Bucky picked Steve up easily, sitting him on one of the rocks, and jumped up beside him. That’s when Steve noticed the red mark just below Bucky’s collar. He didn’t want to figure out what happened anymore. 

 

Steve tried to ignore the feelings bubbling in his chest, rather trying to focus on the sun hitting his skin. 

 

The group eventually did wander back home. Bucky and Steve took the long way, walking the girls back to their house. “I’ll see you Monday, yeah?” Bucky asked Jean, their bodies closer than usual.

 

“Absolutely,” she whispered. They shared an intimate kiss, both of them giggling quietly to themselves when they pulled away.

 

June wouldn’t let Steve kiss her cheek goodnight.

 

“Bye Bucky. Bye Steve,” Jean said before the girls disappeared into the warm house. 

 

Bucky and Steve both stuffed their hands in their pockets and walked back home. Neither of them said a word, partly because they didn’t have anything to say. They both just existed with one another. That was all they needed. 

 

“Good call on the beach,” Steve told him.

 

“Glad you had fun, punk,” Bucky said as he ruffled Steve’s hair. Steve laughed and swatted at Bucky’s hands. “I’ll see you tomorrow after church, yeah?” Bucky was already moving to walk up the stairs to his place. Steve nodded and ducked into the apartment with a quiet ‘see ya later.’

#  ~*~*~*~*~

 

Steve got sick from the beach. It started out as a simple cold, so Steve didn’t tell anyone. He’d already gotten a lecture about swimming in the water from his mother and he didn’t want to tell her he’d gotten sick because of it. So he didn’t complain about his head hurting or his throat, he tried not to cough around her and if he did he would play it off as an itchy throat. That is until he woke one morning a week after the beach, his body shivering and his teeth chattering. ‘ _ Bucky’s gonna be so mad once he figures out where I got sick from _ ,’ he thought to himself as he tried to sit up. His body was too weak to do such a simple task. 

 

“Steve, are you up yet?” Sarah called, her knuckles rapping on the door before she walked in. When her eyes caught sight of her son pale and sweating as he shivered underneath the covers, she immediately knelt by his side. “You feelin’ okay, love?” she whispered as her hand moved to press against his forehead and cheek. 

 

“No ma’am,” Steve whispered. His breathing was fast and shallow, his eyes drooping. He definitely had a fever, Sarah could tell just by sitting beside him. 

 

“I need to go to church and drop off the desert I made for the Robertson’s anniversary. Maybe I can call Winifred and she can send Bucky down to sit with you? If not I can ask Mrs. Thompson, but with the baby I don’t think that’d be a bright idea,” Sarah rambled to herself. She tucked Steve into bed and kissed his head lightly. “Will you be okay here by yourself for a moment? I’ll see if I can’t get in touch with the doctor before I leave. Maybe he can stop by and see what’s going on.” Steve barely nodded. 

 

Sarah was worried, no doubt, but she went through this so many times with Steve it was hard to really worry about him. Until she found out what was wrong, she’d try to stay calm about all this. Sarah hurried off to the kitchen and dialed the doctor. “Sorry, Mrs. Rogers, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it today. The wife’s in labor,” the doctor said giddily. “I’m sure Steven will be alright. Keep him warm and hydrated. I’ll send a colleague over first thing tomorrow morning.” Sarah sighed and thanked him. 

 

She rushed out the door and up the stairs. Her fingers rapped against the wooden door of the Barnes’ apartment, her panic rising. George opened the door, a cheerful smile on his face. “Sarah, what a lovely surprise! What can I do for you this morning?” 

 

“Can I borrow James? Steve’s sick again and I need to drop something off at the church and the doctor can’t come, but I don’t want to leav-” George held up his hand, a knowing smile on his face. He called for his son and held the door open wider so Sarah could step into the house. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you and your family,” Sarah admitted. 

 

“You know it’s no problem, Sarah. We love Steve like he was our own. Besides, if Bucky caught word that Steve was sick, he’d throw a tantrum until we let him go see him. You’re really saving my ass here.” Sarah laughed, some of the panic leaving just a little.

 

“Hi, Mrs. Rogers,” Bucky said as he came into the room with Daisy. 

 

“Good morning, Bucky. Steve’s sick-”

 

“See ya later, Pops,” Bucky called already out the door. Sarah let out a breath and gave George one last smile before she followed the rambunctious boy downstairs. “What’s wrong with him?” Bucky asked, waiting a bit impatiently by the door. 

 

Sarah opened it and the two walked inside, heading straight for Steve’s bedroom. “He’s running a fever but he’s shivering and he’s really weak. I have a bad feeling it may be pneumonia,” she explained. 

 

Bucky burst through the door of Steve’s bedroom and practically leaped into bed beside the boy. “Hi Stevie,” he said gently, “how ya feelin’?” 

 

Steve whined, rolling over to push his face into Bucky’s chest. Sarah smiled sadly from the doorway, happy to see her little boy had someone to take care of him but sad that he felt terrible in the first place. “Bucky, I’ll be back in a few. If the phone rings, answer it. It may be the doctor.” With that she left the boys alone, hurrying around the house to get her things so she can take her dessert to church. She may even stay for the sermon and pray for her sweet little boy. 

 

Bucky waited until he heard the door close before he asked. “Is this because of the beach?” Steve didn’t respond, just coughed weakly and curled into Bucky’s chest. He sighed and slipped under the covers. “Damn, kid, you’re on fire,” he whispered as he pulled Steve close to him. 

 

“Cold,” Steve whimpered. He was still shivering and his teeth were still chattering, but he was content with snuggling with Bucky. 

 

They laid there, curled up in Steve’s tiny bed, for an hour. Steve suddenly felt sick, but he couldn’t tell if it was just nausea or if it was actually vomit. “Buck,” Steve said as he tried to get up. But it was too late. . . 

 

Before Bucky could move his arm to let him sit up or even respond, Steve puked all over the bed. Bucky stared at the mess on the covers, Steve, and himself in shock and disgust. “I-I’m so s-sorr-” Steve sobbed before another wave spewed out of him. He was sobbing and his body ached. He hated being sick and he hated crying and he hated puking. He just hated this. He should have told someone he was sick all week before he let it get this far. This is payback, cruel and unfortunate payback. 

 

Bucky quickly composed himself, trying to keep in mind that he couldn’t help it. The kid could barely move, much less get up. “Stevie,” Bucky said softly, “it’s okay.” He moved his clean arm, the one behind Steve’s head, to run his hand through Steve’s unruly blonde hair. He waited patiently as Steve sobbed and puked his guts out. He even waited a few minutes, suffering as the smell worsened and the vomit spread down their bodies and the bed, just to be sure Steve was okay. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” Bucky whispered. 

 

Carefully, Bucky stood up and took off his shirt and shorts. Then he folded the covers in so the vomit wouldn’t spread and set them in a pile with his clothes. Next came Steve’s clothes. He helped the small, weak boy out of bed and out of his thin shirt and his pajama bottoms. Then came the sheets. “Alright, you’re going to lay down while I get these washed and then I’ll clean you up, yeah?” Steve nodded weakly, holding up his arms. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, but picked Steve up anyways. He liked holding Steve like this. He liked Steve depending on him and needing him to do the smallest of things. He liked to provide for his best friend. He liked having Steve’s bare chest pressed against his. 

 

If it was anyone else, Bucky would have faltered at the comment. But this wasn’t the first time he’d thought like that. Not at all. Hell, he was almost certain Steve was the only one he thought of like that, despite having Jean. 

 

Bucky carried Steve into the living room and snagged a trash bin on his way. He set the bin by the couch and gently laid Steve on it with his head near the bin. “If you feel sick, there’s the bin,” Bucky said softly. 

 

It took Bucky twenty minutes to get the soiled clothes and sheets in the washing machine. He pumped the engine a bit, just to get them soaking a little, and put a bit of soap in. When the clothes started to spin, he let them be to go clean up Steve. 

 

“I’ll draw a bath-” Bucky told him as he passed through the living room. 

 

“No, come hold me,” Steve whined. 

 

“Stevie, you’re covered in puke. I’m covered in puke. We’re gross and need to bathe,” Bucky retorted as he moved to stroke Steve’s hair down. He still had a fever, but it didn’t seem to be climbing as much. 

 

Steve whined, but he didn’t argue so Bucky figured he agreed. He quickly ran into the bathroom, getting the bath started. As the water started to run, Bucky ran back to gently pick Steve up and carry him into the bathroom. He sat on the toilet seat, with Steve in his lap, and stopped the water. “It’s nice and warm,” Bucky mumbled. “C’mon.” Bucky held Steve up as Steve slipped out of his underwear. It took everything in Bucky to not look, despite how much he wanted to. “Ready?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve mumbled weakly. Bucky helped him sit in the tub and made sure he was comfortable. “Where are you going?” Steve asked as Bucky started out the room.

 

“Gotta finish our clothes. Think you can wash without me?” Bucky was starting to get worried, Steve had never been this bad. But the younger boy nodded and Bucky gave him a small smile. “Be back in a minute.” 

 

Bucky finished washing the clothes and drained the machine. He’d have to wring out the clothes in a minute, but for now it was okay. He rushed back to the bathroom, to find Steve barely awake. “Hey, Stevie, you okay?” The boy looked up and lightly shook his head. Bucky sighed and helped him wash. 

 

As Bucky was helping Steve dry off and climb into clean clothes, Sarah returned home. Bucky blushed a bit, realizing he was still in his underwear when Sarah walked into the bathroom. “What happened?” Steve whined and leaned into his mother as she hugged him tight. Bucky mouthed at her ‘ _ Tell you in a minute _ .’ “C’mon, sweet boy.” Sarah carried Steve into her room and tucked him into the bed. 

 

Bucky followed behind, his shy, polite side slipping out. “Steve got sick and it was everywhere, so I washed the clothes and gave him a bath-” Sarah pulled Bucky into a tight hug, not caring that Bucky still had a bit of dry vomit on his chest. 

 

She pushed him back to arm's length and stared up at him. Since when was he taller than her? Bucky focused on the words the woman was about to say. “You are an absolute treasure. You take care of Steven better than I can sometimes and you never complain. Most people couldn’t take someone vomiting all over them, but you didn’t even bat an eye. You’re stronger than most people, have the biggest heart I’ve ever seen, and you’re one of the best young men I’ve ever met.” She held up a hand, a warm smile on her face. “No, you’re one of the best  _ men _ I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.”

 

Bucky may or may not have teared up at her words. “Thank you,” he whispered.

 

“No, thank you.” She kissed his cheek. “Go take a bath. I’ll make some soup for lunch and get you some clean clothes from your house. 

 

Steve ended up going to the hospital for pneumonia. He stayed for a week and Bucky was there as much as he could be, just like every time. 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

“So where do you lovely ladies want to go tonight?” Bucky asked as they walked home for lunch.

 

“I don’t know,” Jean said with a sigh. 

 

“Can we just hang out at your place, Bucky?” June asked, her arms clutching her book against her chest. 

 

“I guess. I’ll ask my ma when we get to my place.” 

 

“Speaking of which, is it still okay if I stay over? Ma’s working the nightshift again,” Steve said. 

 

Bucky bumped his shoulder, a goofy grin on his face. “No dumbass, you can’t stay. You have to suffer alone all by yourself in your little room.” Steve rolled his eyes and bumped into him. “Don’t start, punk,” Bucky warned. Bucky pushed Steve a little harder, a smirk on his face.

 

“Oh yeah?” Steve used all his weight and bumped into Bucky, barely making him miss his footing. Bucky laughed and pushed Steve a little more. 

 

“Boys,” Jean giggled, “stop before you hurt each other.” Steve faltered, his laugh dying down. That was code for ‘Bucky, you don’t want to hurt Steve.’ Bucky stopped and slung his right arm over Steve’s shoulders. He held his left hand out for Jean, taking it and bringing it up to kiss her knuckles. 

 

He caught Steve’s eye, a sliver of something Bucky had never seen before in those pretty blue eyes. His smile fell and he leaned over to whisper, “You good?”

 

Steve nodded, a small, forced smile on his face. 

 

With that they approached the building, where Winifred was ushering in the three younger Barnes children into the building. “Why hello,” she said cheerfully upon seeing the four. “Is it my lucky day to have all four of you in my presence today?” Bucky and Steve laughed as the girls smiled politely up at the woman. “Well, come on in. I made sandwiches for everyone.” 

 

They marched up the three flights, Steve wheezing a little, and into the apartment. The four sat around the table with the others, listening intently as Becky and Daisy teamed up against Eugene. “It doesn’t matter, you’re a boy and you’re out numbered,” Becky said playfully. 

 

Eugene didn’t say anything else, because Winifred set down the plate of sandwiches. The kids grabbed their food, eating quietly. Bucky and Steve were making faces at one another when no one was looking, until Bucky moved his foot. His boot knocked into Steve’s, causing Steve to retaliate. 

 

With a small, mischievous smile, Steve kicked Bucky’s foot. Bucky looked up and matched the look, using both of his feet to grab at one of Steve’s. The smaller boy tried his best to get his foot out without making it obvious as to what they were doing. Bucky started to talk to Jean and June, stopping every now and then to bite into his sandwich or smirk at Steve. Steve finally gave up, deciding to kick off one of Bucky’s feet with his other. 

 

Bucky faltered for a moment, trying to grab at Steve’s again. He bit his lip, trying desperately to hold his laughter in. Steve felt a little triumphant as he finished eating, making small comments to Bucky’s siblings. Until Bucky stepped on Steve’s boot lightly. The blonde sent a glare towards his friend, moving his foot to grab at his leg. 

 

“Ow!” Jean shrieked, causing Bucky to blush furiously. He had tried to shake Steve’s foot off and accidentally kicked her. 

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Steve tried not to laugh and hid his face behind his hand.

 

“You think that’s funny?” June asked, her eyes squinted and her head cocked to the side. Steve shook his head, his eyes falling down to his plate. She huffed and turned back to her own plate. 

 

The boys waited, legs locked together, for a minute or two to make sure no one noticed. Bucky started to move his foot, running it against Steve’s leg - just to be sure - before he nudged it gently. 

 

Steve’s eyes fluttered shut, quietly enjoying the way Bucky’s boot felt going up his leg. Bucky noticed, his smirk returning. He kept going, deciding to forget about their previous shenanigans and focus on keeping that blissful look on Steve’s face. 

 

“You all better get back to school! We don’t want you to be late, now do we?” Winifred announced, hands on her hips and a playful smile on her lips. The girls thanked her for letting them stay for lunch and started out the door with their things, the other three quickly behind them. 

 

Steve and Bucky exchanged a look and untangled their legs. They both simultaneously kissed Winifred’s cheeks and burst out the door, books in hand. Their laughter echoed down the stairwell as their feet stomped down the stairs. Steve didn’t even care if his chest constricted a little too much. 

 

When they made it to the street, the girls were standing there waiting on them. June looked furious and Jean looked upset. “What’s the matter, love?” Bucky asked, his laughter dying down. Steve did his best to compose himself, a small smile on his face still.

 

Jean shook her head, a couple tears falling silently. Bucky pulled her close, kissing her head as she started to cry into his chest. He sent a confused look to June and Steve, unsure what had happened in the short moment he’d been away.

 

June grabbed Steve’s hand and dragged him a few feet away. “We need to talk,” she told him. He nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets, his attention completely on her like always. “I don’t like you, at all. You’re scrawny and weak and you’re always sick, which is why I don’t kiss you or let you kiss me. You aren’t even that cute and your personality isn’t all that great, not like I thought it was. The only reason we lasted this long,” she paused and nodded towards her sister, “is because she wanted to be with him.” Her tone turned to venom, her face green with jealousy. “I don’t blame her, either. He’s everything you aren’t.”

 

Steve nodded, eyes trained on his boots. “That’s okay. I understand,” he told her quietly. 

 

“Besides,” June said with a shy smile, “I like someone else.” Her eyes darted to Bucky and Steve couldn’t help but follow her gaze.

 

“It’s okay. I do, too,” he whispered. It was more to himself than it was her, but it felt great to get that out there. 

June walked away and waited for her older sister a little down the sidewalk. Steve hung back and watched as Jean broke it off with Bucky too. He looked shocked and upset, which made Steve’s entire being tense. It was his fault they couldn’t be together. He was denying Bucky Jean, indirectly. This isn’t fair. 

 

Jean walked away, wiping at her face. Bucky stood there, mouth open and hands helplessly in front of him. He looked so sad, like a lost puppy who just lost his owner.

 

Steve would never forgive himself for hurting him. . .

 

He walked over to his friend and hugged him. Winifred walked outside then, her face puzzled and worried. “What happened? Where are the girls?”

 

“They broke up with us,” Bucky said flatly. He didn’t care, not really at least. Yeah, he enjoyed Jean’s company, but he cared more about Steve. He loved Steve, he liked Jean. There was a big difference. 

 

“Oh boys,” Winifred cooed as she walked over to them. She pulled them tight against her, smushing Steve’s face against her chest. “I’m sorry, boys.”

 

Later that night, the two of them were just walking around. There wasn’t much either of them felt like doing, so they walked. Bucky was kicking a rock down the street, occasionally kicking it in Steve’s direction. No words were said, nothing needed to be spoken. They just needed to exist with one another, surrounded by the bustling Brooklyn streets and comfortable silence between them. 

 

Around the corner, on their street, a fight seemed to break out in one of the alleyways. Bucky took a step in front of Steve, his body tense and his fists forming. They exchanged a nervous look, but their eyes trusted one another. They had each other’s backs, no matter what. Carefully, they continued down their path.

 

The fight moved to the street, three men against two. Bucky pushed Steve behind a mailbox and ducked, peeking his head out every now and then. He knew how dangerous things could get, what with the depression still raging and gangs popping up all over from the prohibition. He didn’t want them to get caught up into something they had no business being in. 

 

“Yeah, that’s what you get you queer!” one man slurred as he pounded into one of the men. 

 

“You show ‘im who’s boss, Frankie!” another encouraged, kicking at the other men. The two on the ground cowered in fear, trying their best to cover their faces and heads. 

 

“You see what happens when you go around spreading this,” the third man stumbled on his words, “disease?” One of the men started to sob, calling out to the other through his cries. “Oh, trying to get your little boyfriend to save ya?” 

 

“Pathetic homos,” the second man spat. 

 

Bucky and Steve watched on in horror as the realization sunk in. These three brutes were beating two men just because they saw them kissing. . . Just because they liked boys? A horrible thought flashed in Bucky’s head, the image of Steve getting beat to death because they were together. He shook his head, the tears already on his face.

 

“We should call the cops. Have you two arrested for indecency,” the first man said. The second man on the ground was coughing up a thick liquid that shined a dark scarlet under the street lights. 

 

Both boys simultaneously thought of the other laying like that, near death. Their hearts ached and their eyes welled up with tears. 

 

It was already impossible for the two to be together, anyways. This just made it all the more important that they stayed apart. 

 

“C’mon, we need to get out of here,” Bucky said in a hushed whisper. He ushered Steve into the alley and got him to climb the fence so they could make their escape.

 

The next morning, they found out the men had beaten them to death. 

  
That was the day Bucky vowed to never admit their feelings for Steve. Steve had merely prayed for the world to change, change so this wouldn’t be happening. . . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to find out what happened at the beach? A new book will be added in to the series for exclusive one-shots that concern the boys! It should be up within the week!


	9. 1935 - Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this wasn't supposed to be split in two, but it got really long. There were originally five scenes planned for this chapter, and then the first two became 3-4,000 words each. . . Which is why you're getting part one tonight, before I leave on a trip, and you'll be getting part two when I return. 
> 
> Also, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald is mentioned. I tried not to spoil it, but if it's too much information, I'll tag it. I may do that anyways, since I have a plan for part two that may include a spoiler. That's going to be a fun chapter. . . 
> 
> And last thing, I'm looking for an editor/beta to help me out. If you're interested, contact me!

_ Chapter Eight                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          _

  
  


**1935**

 

“I’m freezing,” Steve mumbled to himself. He was waiting for Bucky to get off work at the grocer. It’d become a routine for the two to walk home together and get dressed for work, or in Steve’s case get his supplies. Then they’d walk down the block to the grocer so Bucky could work and Steve would sit outside with his art supplies. The owner of the grocer lets him sit outside and draw people for a small fee which Steve splits whatever he earns in half, some for him and some for the owner.

 

He had packed everything up after a particularly cold day, when the traffic started to slow and the evening grew quiet. He checked his watch, only to see he still had twenty minutes before Bucky got off. It was dark out and the January air was frigid, seeping right into Steve’s bones. 

 

With a sigh, he gathered his things and walked inside. It wasn’t much warmer in the store, but he wasn’t as cold. “I’m almost done,” Bucky said from across the store. He had a feeling Steve would be in any minute now, shrugging off the two coats (Bucky pretended like he didn’t notice Steve wearing his coat after he put on the apron) and sitting in the back corner. 

 

Steve smiled at his friend, a blush rising on his cheeks. He loved when Bucky knew his habits and when he entered a room, it made him feel special. He moved to watch Bucky stock the shelves, hugging his supplies to his chest. “Need any help?” 

 

“Nope.” Bucky moved like a machine around the store, on auto-pilot as he glided from one aisle to another. “Boss man said I can leave as soon as I finish stocking the shelves. Then we can go home. Your Ma workin’ late again?”

 

“Yup, things are always bad in the winter.” Bucky nodded and finished his last box. Steve walked over, taking the cans and putting them on the lower shelves while Bucky took the higher ones. Bucky slapped his hands away, glaring at him. He went to say something, when Steve kept going. “I wanna go home, so let me help you.” 

 

Bucky huffed, but didn’t argue. His long arms moved around the shelves with skill, muscle memory after years of working here. With Steve’s help, he finished his work in a matter of seconds. “There we go.” He took a step back, his eyes scanning just to make sure they were aligned neatly. His boss was a bit of a perfectionist. He adjusted two cans and nodded. “Let’s go home, Stevie,” he told the boy as he lifted up onto his feet. 

 

Steve let out a sigh of relief and grabbed his things. He said a quiet goodnight to the owner, who happened to be falling asleep at the register. “Have a good night boys, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon,” he mumbled with a lazy wave. Steve bit his lip and opened the door into the brisk air as Bucky came running with his coat back on and his apron off. He, too, said a quick goodbye before he ushered the blonde onto the street. 

 

“Let’s make a break for it, yeah?” Bucky whispered as they started to walk towards their building. Steve nodded and the two broke out into a sprint, dodging mailboxes and trash cans as they went. Bucky made sure his pace wasn’t too fast for Steve, just in case he needed to stop. It was a risky idea for them to run in the cold air, Steve’s asthma was so sensitive lately. . . 

 

But they didn’t stop. They both barreled up the steps and into the semi-warm building. Bucky stopped and tried to catch his breath, more of a show to ease Steve’s mind. Steve knew Bucky didn’t really need to take a break before taking the stairs, but it warmed his heart to think that Bucky was so considerate. 

 

The blonde took a few wheezy breaths before he gave Bucky a nod, signalling it was okay to keep going. Bucky grinned and took the stairs two at a time, easing up the flight of stairs like it was nothing. Steve took a little longer, taking each step slowly. “Whatcha think Ma’s got for dinner?” Bucky called, leaning against the railing on his floor to look down at Steve.

 

“Dunno,” Steve breathed. “Just know it’ll be good.”

 

Bucky tsked, “You suck up.” Steve smirked and took a deep breath. He sprinted up the last flight, right into Bucky’s arms. “C’mon, I’m starved.” 

 

Winifred, George, Eugene and Daisy were all seated around the table eating a soup of sorts. They had soup a lot, it saved money and helped keep them warm in the cold house. “Smells delicious,” Steve said in a strained voice as they entered the kitchen. They shrugged off their coats and took their places between George and Winifred, who sat at the head of the table. 

 

“Thank you, Steve. At least someone still appreciates my cooking,” Winifred sent George a playful glare, to which he shrugged off with a groan. She shook her head and turned to the older boys. “How was work?”

 

Bucky was already woofing his soup down, hunched over the bowl. Steve was a little slower, still having trouble with his breathing after the stairs. “It was good,” he told her, “not a lot of people.”

 

“I just stocked shelves all day and cleaned,” Bucky mumbled into his bowl with a shrug. Steve couldn’t help but snicker, earning himself a swift kick from Bucky under the table. Steve kicked him back, acting as if nothing happened. 

 

“Well at least you know how to clean. Maybe some day you’ll show me?” Winifred smirked. Bucky waved her off with a wink, focusing back on his food and trying to trap Steve’s foot. 

 

Of course, with Steve’s energy as low as it is, he won. 

“You boys got plans tonight?” George asked as he finished his bowl. 

 

Bucky shook his head, slurping up the last spoonful. He reached for the spoon, looking to his mother for permission. “Slow down,” she said but motioned for him to go ahead. 

 

He served himself another helping of soup, before he turned to his father. “We’re just gonna stay here tonight, might go out tomorrow or something.” Bucky shrugged and hunched back over his bowl. Steve rolled his eyes, his foot nestled between Bucky’s happily. 

 

“Where’d Becky go?” Steve asked finally.

 

“She’s out with her boyfriend,” Eugene sang with a laugh. 

 

Bucky and Steve both sat up, eyebrows raised. “Boyfriend?” They asked in sync. “Since when does she have a boyfriend?” They shared a look, not even bothering to comment on their ‘jinx’ anymore. It happened too often. 

 

Winifred sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Eugene, you know Becky asked you to keep that a secret.” 

 

“What’s this boyfriend like? You seen him at school at all?” Bucky asked his younger brother. Eugene was now a freshman in highschool and crossed paths with Becky, who’s a sophomore, often.

 

The smaller boy, who looked more like Winifred with his small nose and big eyes, nodded.“He’s alright, I guess. Always hanging around with a different girl, though.” 

 

“So he’s like Bucky?” Steve asked, eyes wide with fear. Yeah, sure, he liked Bucky (hell, he loved him), but Bucky wasn’t someone you wanted your sisters or daughters to date. 

 

When Eugene nodded, you would have thought someone just killed Bucky’s dog. His face went pale and his body frozen. “Oh dear god,” Bucky mumbled as he set Steve’s foot free. He scrambled up, excusing himself from the table and rushed to grab his coat. 

 

“Sit your ass back down,” George called. “You let her be. I don’t like this either, but she’s growing up. You two will sit here, in this house, until she gets home. Do you understand?” He looked between Steve and Bucky, a pointed glare set on his face. The boys begrudgingly nodded, Bucky sulking back to his seat. “We let you two go galavanting across the city, she deserves the same respect.” George’s voice was strained as he and Winifred locked eyes.

 

“Finish eating, boys,” Winifred stated. The tension in the room only grew, causing Steve to sigh deeply. There was always a fight brewing in the household, whether it be between the parents, Bucky and George, or among the siblings. It was to be expected with this many people in the house, but it didn’t make it any less awkward for him.

 

They finished dinner quietly and somehow, Steve’s foot was tucked between Bucky’s feet once more. 

 

Steve followed Bucky into his room after they helped clean up, watching as the muscles in Bucky’s back moved from under his shirt. He knew Bucky was upset, maybe because his little sister now had a boyfriend or something else, but he was upset nonetheless. Steve just wished he could help.

 

The taller boy plopped down on his bed, leaving enough room for Steve. They couldn’t do much, not without money and most of the things Bucky had in mind right now, he couldn’t do in the house much less in his little brother’s room. He wouldn’t even tell Steve, in fear of his opinion. He laid there, with an arm over his eyes and his body mostly against the wall. 

 

Steve laid beside him, kicking off his shoes since his feet, unlike Bucky’s, didn’t hang off the bed as easily. It was only about seven thirty, a bit too early to go to bed even for a weeknight. That didn’t stop them from almost slipping into a quiet sleep. 

 

Until Eugene barged in, asking them if they’d want to hear some story that just started playing on the radio last week. “Not tonight, pal,” Bucky told him as he heaved himself up off the bed. Eugene nodded, his shoulders deflating. 

 

Much like Steve, Eugene idolized Bucky. Wanted to be just like his big brother, complete with his strong opinions and sharp wit. He always watched carefully, his eyes consuming everything Bucky did just so he can copy them later. 

 

Steve knew how the kid felt, almost felt sorry for him with Bucky pushing him away more. They had talked about it before, Steve tried to persuade Bucky to take a weekend off from taking girls out and wooing them with his charming smile (he didn’t say that last part) and spend it hanging out with his family. Bucky would shrug off the idea, saying it’d be fun and all but he enjoyed going out and some things shouldn’t be done around persuadable minds. Steve didn’t know what Bucky meant and Bucky didn’t elaborate. 

 

Steve gave Eugene a small smile, before glaring at the back of Bucky’s head. “We’ll be there in a minute, alright?” He told the younger teen, whose face lit up as he jumped for joy. Bucky turned to Steve, jaw tight and face exasperated. He didn’t want to go sit in the living room with his family and listen to some stupid story on the radio that he knew nothing about. 

 

“It starts in ten minutes,” Eugene told them before he raced back down the hall. Bucky moved to close the door, before he turned to Steve with a glare. 

 

“What the actual fuck, Stevie?” He whisper-yelled. 

 

Steve rolled his eyes and brought his knees up to his chest, holding them tight. “Don’t start, Buck. You blow the kid off too much and it’s not like we’re doing anything else. Besides, we can make a pillow fort and study while Eugene listens. He just wants to be around you, Bucky. At least give him that.” Steve didn’t even begin to mention that Bucky looked stressed out, like he would explode any second from all the responsibility.

 

Bucky paced a little, his left hand on his hip as his right covered his face. He finally stopped, hand falling with exasperation. “You’re making the fort,” he tells him. Steve grins and shrugs. If making a pillow fort big enough for three teenaged boys was all it took for Bucky to spend time with his kid brother, than that’s what he’d do. 

 

They grabbed their supplies, Bucky getting their homework and textbooks and Steve grabbing random blankets and pillows. Eugene was already in the living room, sitting on the floor with his back against the couch and an expectant smile on his face. 

 

Steve set to making their pillow fort, using chairs from the dining room and sheets from Bucky and Eugene’s closet. Eugene helped him drape the sheets and blankets over the chairs, piling the couch cushions and pillows underneath. Steve peeked his head out, noticing Bucky watching from the where he was leaning against the kitchen doorway. 

 

Winifred and George rolled their eyes, used to the pillow forts taking up their little living room. Daisy crawled in, too, with her own pillow and blanket. Steve grabbed his and Bucky’s school things and spread out their supplies accordingly. 

 

He had a thing about having a system with his studying, it helped him keep focus. He’d put their books in order, starting with the technical stuff - Math and Science - and ending with the lighter stuff - English and History. He’d have pencil sharpeners and scratch paper between the stacks of books and notebooks for both him and Bucky to share. They’d each have a pillow below that, so they could lay down but keep themselves comfortable enough on their elbows. (Steve had two since his arms grew tired far too easy.)

 

“It’s coming on!” Eugene said, slipping out of the fort to turn the radio up enough. He crawled back in, curled up next to the space Bucky would take. Daisy was on the other side, her blanket wrapped around her. 

 

Bucky crawled in, a small smile on his face. Whether he’d admit it or not, he loved these forts. They always made him feel better, and Steve would agree. It made him feel small, like an innocent child who didn’t know how awful this world truly was and still had hope for a bright future. Now he knew he’d be stuck at a lame job, something that would barely pay him enough to get by, and he probably would never be happy because he couldn’t be with Steve the way he wanted. But when he was in one of these forts? All of the negative slipped away and he was just Bucky and the depression never happened and he wasn’t struggling through school or to help his parents pay the rent. He could just be a boy named Bucky with a best friend who he was hopelessly in love with at this point named Steve. 

 

Steve met his smile and patted between him and Eugene. Bucky crawled up, plopping down on his front between the two boys. He cracked open his math textbook and started to scribble down his work problems. Steve copied him, getting started on his own math work, with a small smile on his face.

 

An hour went by and the show was over, but the four didn’t feel like leaving. Steve and Bucky were on a roll, almost done with their English and history work respectively. Eugene was listening to the next show, mumbling little comments as it progressed, comments that would make Bucky stop just so he could add something or elaborate on an opinion. No one commented on Steve and Bucky’s entwined legs. 

 

Another hour went by and the homework was put away. They were all laying in the fort, curled up with blankets and each other to take advantage of body heat. The house was getting cold as the night went on, making them all get a little closer and cuddle a bit more. Steve was laying beside Bucky, with his head on his arm, as they listened to Eugene talk. 

 

It wasn’t until Becky came home that Bucky and Steve got up, careful not to wake the two younger kids that had just fallen asleep. “Shoot! Will ya look at that, Stevie?” Bucky said quietly, hands stuffed in his pockets. Sarcasm was wafting off of him in waves as he gave Becky a smile and lazily walked over to the tired teen girl. “If it isn’t sweet little Becky lookin’ snazzy in that dress? Where ya been, kid?” Bucky’s over-protectiveness was starting to seep out from behind his cocky smile. 

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Leave her alone, Buck. It’s been a long night. I’m sure she’s tired and just wants to go to bed. We got school in the morning, and if I remember you saying, you’ve got a test first thing.” 

 

“Listen to Steve, ya dip,” Becky snapped. 

 

Bucky waved Steve off carelessly. “No, I wanna know what my little sister’s been doin’ all night. She’s been out and about with some goof-”

 

“He’s not some goof, Bucky. You weren’t even s‘posed to know.” 

 

“Oh, don’t get all bent,” Bucky snapped. He kept his voice low, which made it all the more menacing. 

 

“You’re the one bombarding me with questions!” Becky hissed, eyes wide and arms flailed. 

 

“They’re asleep,” Steve whispered and pointed to the fort. “Take it out into the hall if you’re really gonna hash this out.” 

 

Bucky crossed his arm, ignoring Steve. He was too far gone, too relaxed from their evening in and too tired from everything. “I wanna meet him. Tomorrow.” 

 

“No!” Becky yelled, waking Eugene. 

 

He crawled out, rubbing his eyes and running a hand through his messy hair. “What’s goin’ on?” 

 

Bucky lowered his voice, “Nothin’ kid. Go back to bed.” Eugene nodded and grabbed his blankets and pillow from the fort, padding down the hall. Bucky turned to Becky, the tension back in his shoulders and neck. 

 

Steve sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He knows he picks fights every now and then, but this is stressful. “Buck, c’mon. We’ll talk in the morning, yeah?” Steve’s voice was deeper than usual, his exhaustion slipping. He grabbed Bucky’s arm, using all his strength to try and pull him back. 

 

Sadly, that wasn’t enough. 

 

Bucky’s arms were huge compared to Steve’s from playing football the previous semester and from working at the grocer, unloading those boxes sure do have a benefit. Steve loved Bucky’s arms, they were big enough to notice, but small enough to not feel crushed. He was a little more than just toned, but that didn’t matter to Steve. Anything on Bucky would look good. 

 

He shook his head as Bucky and Becky started to argue, all hands and in each other’s faces. She was accusing him of being overbearing, he accused her of keeping secrets. 

 

Eventually, George came into the living room, clearing his throat and silencing the siblings. “Your mother and I are trying to sleep. You both need to knock it off and get to bed. Now.” He demanded. 

 

Bucky wanted to snap at his father, tell him he didn’t get to tell him what to do. That he’s turning eighteen in like a month and he’s his own man. But Steve put a hand on his chest, a pointed look stopping him. So he just stood there, chest heaving and jaw clenched as he tried to calm down. Becky slipped past, mumbling a goodnight to everyone and kissing her father’s cheek. George soon followed, reminding the boys to turn the lights off.  

 

Bucky was still standing there, glaring at the wall where his father had stood. He was beyond pissed and just couldn’t figure out what it was exactly. Was it Becky growing up? Was it growing up in general? Or was it the idea of someone touching his little sister like he does to so many girls? Or was it the idea that Becky didn’t trust him enough to tell him she had a boyfriend? It was probably a little bit of everything, if he’s quite honest. “Be back,” he finally mumbled. He grabbed his coat and shrugged it on, slipping out the apartment in his socks. 

 

Steve didn’t follow. He knew Bucky needed a moment to himself, to sit and think for a minute. So he climbed back into the fort and gathered all of Daisy’s things. With a little bit of a struggle, Steve managed to carry her back to her room. Becky ran back out to grab her pile of things and helped him tuck her into bed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as they both stepped out of the room. 

 

“For what? Wanting privacy? Wanting to grow up? You’ve got nothing to be sorry about,” Steve explained. “You told your parents and you went out with a boy. There’s nothing wrong with that. Buck’s just overreacting a little. It’s been a long day and he’s been stressing lately. Don’t worry about him, he’ll be fine in the morning. You’ll smooth it over and everything will be good.” 

 

Becky gave him a small smile before she lunged at him, her arms wrapping around his neck. “Thank you,” she whispered. He hugged her back, swaying a little with his weak legs (it took a lot out of him to carry Daisy, even if it was only for a few feet). 

 

Steve shrugged as she let go, a blush on his face. “Of course. I’ll talk to him, get some sleep.” Becky nodded and slid back into her room quietly. Steve made his way back into the living room. He stood, with his hands on his hips and his eyes glued to the fort. He should take it down and put it all away, but part of him knows Bucky needs it. Needs to just relax. 

 

Bucky came back in, the smell of smoke lingering on his coat. Steve had figured Bucky smoked for a while now, but he didn’t dare say a word. If Bucky didn’t want Steve to know, then he wouldn’t. Simple as that. 

 

“C’mon, let’s get this down-” Steve shook his head. “Steve, I just wanna sleep now. Please?” 

 

“Can we sleep in the fort instead? Like we used to?” Bucky thought for a moment before he nodded. They both shared a small smile before heading into Bucky’s room to change into their pajamas. 

 

Then they creeped back into the living room, crawled back into the fort, and as if they were ten years old again, fell asleep curled against each other hidden away from the world by a layer of sheets. 

 

For a moment, all was well.

#  ~*~*~*~*~

 

March came around fast, and with it was Bucky’s eighteenth birthday. “C’mon, Bucky. Mom wants us home,” Becky called from the courtyard gate where she stood with his other siblings and Steve.

“We still on for later?” Stanley asked, eyebrow quipped and a smirk on his face. 

 

“Only if you think you can handle it?” Bucky shot back, already inching towards his siblings. His friends laughed, telling him they’d see him later. 

 

“We’ll bring plenty of girls, don’t worry!” Walter added, making Bucky bark with laughter as he turned to walk towards the gate. 

 

“What was all that about?” Steve asked. 

 

Bucky shook with the remains of his laughter, grinning like a little boy on a sugar rush. “Tell ya later.” He slapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder, guiding him out. He was already a few paces ahead of his three siblings when he called, “You goofs comin’ or should we wait?” 

 

The five kids walked home, none of them saying anything. Bucky wasn’t stupid, he knew what was up. He knew his mother would have the house cleaned and a cake ready for him. She’d have his favorite meal (a meat loaf, baked potatoes, and whatever vegetables were in season that they could afford) cooking and a present (maybe two) waiting for him. He also knew she’d have told Steve and his siblings to get him home as soon as possible, just like she did for all of their birthdays. 

 

They marched up the stairs, Steve wheezing only a little, and entered the apartment to find just what Bucky was expecting. “Happy birthday, my precious baby boy!” Winifred cooed, rushing over to take his face in her hands. “Where did the time go? What happened to that sweet little face of yours?” 

 

“Ma!” Bucky laughed and took her hands in his. “Will you stop? I’m eighteen, not eight!” He chided without any real heat behind his words. He gently peeled her hands off his face, a grin on his faces. 

 

“I don’t care,” she said, “you’re my baby boy and always will be. Now c’mon, dinner’s ready early. Figured you and Steve would be going out tonight.” Winifred smiled at the two boys before she dragged Bucky into the kitchen, where his favorite meal was on the table, a small chocolate cake in the middle. 

 

“Yeah, we’re going to meet up with a couple of friends,” Bucky told her. Steve’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he mouthed, ‘We are?’ Bucky nodded, mouthing ‘Explain later.’ He turned to his mother again as his siblings sat around the table. “Where’s Pops?” 

 

Winifred sighed. “Has to work late. He wishes you a very happy birthday.” Bucky rolled his eyes and hooked his foot with Steve’s. It’d become a habit of theirs, to play footsie under the table. Sometimes, they didn’t even realize they were doing it. “Eat up.”

 

They ate in a comfortable silence, Bucky and Steve making faces at one another and smiling. “This is great, Ma,” Bucky said as he made himself another helping of meatloaf. 

 

“Anything for my baby.” She put a hand on his cheek again, her eyes glazing over with a dreamy look. Bucky smiled at her, his cheeks full and puffed out like he was a toddler again. 

 

Steve’s heart ached. He loved Bucky, especially when he looked that happy. 

 

After dinner, everyone gave Bucky their presents. His parents (and Daisy, the five-year old added) gave him a  new slightly used suit, Becky bought him a pack of playing cards, Eugene promised to do his chores for a week, and Stevie bought him a new book (Bucky wouldn’t admit, but he really did love to read) which was an unusual gift coming from the blonde, given that he usually receives detailed sketches of himself or them. (Bucky has them all tucked away in a shoebox, each smudged and weathered just a little with age. He was kind of disappointed to not have another, but he simply smiled and thanked the boy instead.)

 

Once Bucky put his presents away and promised to wear the suit to prom and graduation, they finally dug into the cake. 

 

“Thanks for a great birthday,” Bucky told everyone. 

 

Winifred hugged him again and kissed his forehead, breathing in her baby boy once more. “You deserve it, my love. Now go get ready and have fun with your friends.” She pushed him away lightly, a smile on her face.

 

Bucky laughed and grabbed Steve’s hand, dragging him into his bedroom. “C’mon, dress nice. We’re goin’ dancin’.” 

 

Steve stumbled, grabbing the bed to stabilize himself. He turned to Bucky, still confused. “Who are we meeting? Where are we going? Hell, what’s going on?” He asked, grabbing one of his shirts from Bucky’s closet. A while ago, the boys had just decided to split their wardrobes in half and put them in the other’s room for easy access. It made spontaneous sleepovers a lot easier. 

 

“We’re meetin’ up with the boys and they’re bringing along some girls. We’ll meet up at that new club a couple blocks over and have ourselves a good time,” Bucky explained as he traded his school shirt for a nice button down. He took off his belt, snapping on his suspenders. Running his fingers underneath the straps, Bucky gave Steve an excited smirk. 

 

“I don’t know if this is such a great idea, Buck.” Steve slid his tie off and changed into a nicer pair of slacks. 

 

Bucky started to fix his hair in the mirror. “What do you mean? It’s gonna be a blast. Nobody cares about how old you are and Stanley’s payin’ our tab tonight. So all you and I have to worry about is getting home safely and having us a good ole time.” 

 

Steve was a little weary, but let Bucky drag him to the club once the sun set. Bucky’s arm was slung over his shoulders and their pace was synced as they met up with everyone. “There’s the birthday boy!” Walter shouted from the entrance to the club. 

 

Bucky laughed, a bashful yet cocky grin on his face. “C’mon boys, let’s go listen to that good boogie-woogie, cuddle up with some dames, and drink ‘til we’re soused,” he cheered. The boys, except for Steve, followed. Then they were ushered into the club, were a group of girls were waiting for them. 

 

And then the drinking started. 

 

Steve hated it, watching people get so messed up they were falling around the place. He hated being the only person who wasn’t drinking, but he wasn’t really in the mood to drink. Bucky was guzzling his beer, his brain focused on picking up a couple of the girls that were hanging around. Steve wanted to get out of there. . .

 

And then the dancing started. 

 

Everyone was out on the dance floor, kicking up their feet and having a grand old time. Except Steve, who sat at their table with a glass of water as he watched. There was an odd number of girls and none of them even glanced at Steve. Not that he really tried. 

 

And then the harassment started. 

 

After about an hour of Steve struggling, one of the girls asked him to hold her pearls. Steve said he would with a small voice and gently took the pearls from her delicate hands. That’s when a man Steve had never seen came up and started grabbing her hips. He whispered something to her, swaying a little from the alcohol in his system. She pushed him away, face contorted in disgust. “Go away, Connor,” she snapped. 

 

When Connor didn’t leave, Steve tried to push him away. That got the guy to let her go, instead sneering at Steve. “The fuck you want?”

 

“She said to go away,” Steve repeated. 

 

If it wasn’t for Connor’s friends that came over to drag him back to the group, Steve would have been pummeled. Again.

 

And then the smoking started.

 

It was as if all at once the club goers decided they needed a cigarette. It was just over an hour and Steve’s lungs were killing him. He was wheezing and the smoke was burning. He really needed to get out before he went into a full blown attack.

 

He wanted Bucky to get him out of there. 

 

Bucky was beyond drunk already, and out of Steve’s sight. The small blonde made his way through the dancing people and smoky air, calling out for his best friend. His chest was aching and it was harder to breathe with every step. . . “Buck?” He called. 

 

He pushed with all his strength against the bodies, apologizing as he went. He really needed Bucky. 

 

Steve found him in a dark corner with his friends. They were laughing and drinking and. . .

 

Steve wanted to cry and run away. There was no way that was Bucky. Not his Bucky, at least. His Bucky would never, ever pull something like this. 

 

Bucky was hunched over the table, beer in one hand and the other closing one of his nostrils as he sniffed a line of cocaine. One of the girls was kissing up his neck, trying to sit in his lap. 

 

Steve ran back before Bucky could notice him. He found the girl with the pearls and gave them back, his voice strained as he yelled over the jazz music and through the smoke, “Could you let Bucky know I’m leaving?” 

 

Before the girl could respond, Steve was wiggling his way out of the club. When his lungs finally got a bit of fresh air, it only eased his pain a little. The attack was already here, barreling through his body like a vacuum, sucking up all the oxygen in his lungs.

  
“Do you need help?” Someone asked him, but their voice sounded like it was in a tunnel. He nodded as he tried his best to go through the breathing exercises that usually work.

 

‘Usually I have Bucky, but he’s too high at the moment,’ Steve thought bitterly. As soon as he thought it, he scolded himself. He shouldn’t think of Bucky that way. He’s seen first hand how Bucky can go from pissed drunk to sober in three seconds when he needs to. 

 

“What’s going on?” A second person asked. 

 

“We dunno,” another said. Steve felt hands on him, keeping him standing still. “He doesn’t look drunk.”

 

“Or high.” The first commented. 

“Asthma,” he wheezed as he pointed to his chest. 

 

“Let’s give him some space,” the third person commented. Steve realized who was around him, two men and a women, all of which were older than him. And not sober. 

 

Steve pushed away from them and made his way down the street. He just needed to get home. 

 

By the time he made it to the building, Steve didn’t have the energy to make it up the stairs. The only good news is that he stopped the attack enough to keep him from being hospitalized, thanks to his breathing exercises. He sat down down on the second to last step, letting his mind wander.

 

It wasn’t that Steve held Bucky up on the highest of pedestals, even though he does. It was more the fact that he’d never seen Bucky act so. . . reckless. Even when he got drunk occasionally, he was still somewhat himself. 

 

Honestly, it’s not really a surprise Bucky would do cocaine. A lot of people used to do it and it’s not all that popular nowadays, so it’s probably just one day thing. Bucky’s smart, he knows he’s doing. Steve knows for a fact that some of the kids in Bucky’s grade inhale Benzedrine and some even use cocaine to help them study. 

 

Bucky’s smart and old enough to make his own decisions.

 

He’s overreacting, fixed on something little instead of the drug use. Steve didn’t like going out, but he would for Bucky. He didn’t like drinking, but he’d tolerate it every now and then. He didn’t like smoke, but. . . Well, Bucky usually wouldn’t allow him near it. 

 

Steve felt awful, physically and mentally. He was upset with Bucky and he didn’t really know why. 

  
And then it hit him.

 

Jealousy. 

 

Steve had been so transfixed on the drugs that he completely forgot about the girl. The girl who got to kiss Bucky and touch him the way Steve had longed to. She gets to kiss his long neck, to feel the stubble on his jaw and cheeks, to have his lips on her. She gets to be with him in every way Steve wants to. 

 

He was still sitting on the stairs when his mom came home. She was surprised to see him sitting there, much less out of breath. “Steve, what are you doing?” Sarah sat beside him, pulling him into her chest. 

 

“Went out with Bucky and his friends. Had an asthma attack so I came home.” Steve slumped against her, eyes fluttering shut. 

 

“Where’s Bucky?” She asked quietly. 

 

“Probably still at the club,” Steve mumbled. 

 

“You just left him?” Sarah pulled away, confused. 

 

“I didn’t want to,” he started, “but I couldn’t breath and-” Guilt washed over him, along with all these worst-case scenarios. What if Bucky got hurt? What if someone tried to fight him? What if he- 

 

“Steve, breathe. Shh, baby, just breathe,” Sarah whispered as she rubbed his back. He tried to, really did, but then the tears started. 

 

“It’s all my fault,” Steve sobbed. 

 

“Oh baby, no. It’s not your fault,” Sarah pulled him closer and kissed his head, a hand on his shoulder holding him tight. 

 

She was beyond tired, but her son needed her. . . So she sat there on the stairs with him until he stopped crying. 

 

Two hours later and Bucky wandered in. He was swaying and giggling to himself as he opened and closed the door. He jumped when he saw the Rogers on the doorstep. “What are you doing?” He snapped, his words slurring together. 

 

Sarah was surprised. She had never seen Bucky like this, drunk and/or angry, and now here he was in front of her. He was a mess; his shirt covered in stains, his hair was messy, his skin blotched from sweat and his neck and collar dotted with hickeys. 

 

“I’ll take him upstairs,” Steve whispered. Sarah nodded and kissed his head before finally heading up to her home. Steve stood, his own legs weak, and made his way to Bucky. “Buck, c’mon upstairs,” he tried. 

  
Bucky shrugged him off and started up the stairs. “No,” he snapped as he moved around him. 

 

Steve grabbed his hand and pulled him back. “Are you okay? Other than being completely plastered?” 

 

Bucky pouted, his arms crossed. “You didn’t give me a drawing.” 

 

“What?”

 

“You didn’t give me a drawing for my birthday.”

 

“Bucky. Read your book.” Steve rolled his eyes and pushed Bucky up the stairs.

 

“No!” Bucky stopped after a flight of stairs. “I want a picture, Stevie.” 

 

“Trust me, read the book.” Bucky pouted further, but he didn’t do anything. He let himself be dragged up the stairs and into his apartment. Steve helped him get into the house, into his room, and dressed for bed. He had to try really hard to not do anything he’d regret when he helped Bucky out of his pants. When Bucky was tucked away in bed, he made a glass of water and wrote a note. 

 

“Steve, no go,” Bucky mumbled. 

 

“I’ll see ya in the morning, Buck.” With that, Steve left the apartment even though he really wanted to curl up next to Bucky. 

 

The next morning, Bucky woke up with a killer headache. He rolled over, frowning when he realized he was alone. Hadn’t Steve stayed the night? He sat up and reached over to the glass of water. His memory was a blur, his eyesight still fuzzy. But he still saw the note sitting on his bedside table.

 

_ Bucky,  _

 

_ I know last night was rough, whether or not you remember it is the question. If you do remember, then you’ll know you were upset with me because of your present. Or maybe it wasn’t about the book and something happened that I don’t know about, but I’m going to assume it was the book since that’s what you told me.  _

 

_ That book is great. I read it last summer, remember, and fell in love instantly. I related to the characters in a really surprising way, especially the title character (and the narrator, but he’s meant to be relatable). It made me cry and smile; it was like riding the Cyclone but with emotions.  _

 

_ It’s a good book, easily my favorite. I wanted to share it with you, since it meant so much to me. And I know reading isn’t your thing, especially not for fun, but I tried to make it better for you so it didn’t feel like reading a textbook.  _

 

_ So when you get the chance, open up the cover. Don’t flip ahead, incase you see something you shouldn’t just yet. Just open the cover and go page-by-page until you’ve hit the back.  _

 

_ I hope you aren’t feeling too gross. I’m gonna come over at lunchtime to see how you’re doing. _

 

_ Happy Birthday, Buck.  _

_ Love, Steve R. xx _

 

Bucky got out of bed as quick as he could and grabbed the book from his dresser. It looked new, but worn as if it’d already been read a couple of times. He flipped it around and around in his hands, noticing the lines on the spine and the small tears at the edges from being opened so much. 

  
He plopped back down, his head still hurting. He tried not to think about it and focus on the book in his hand. He opened up the cover, only to find a drawing of the back of him and a cartoon like Steve with a grin and a wave. A bubble was over Steve’s head, inside Steve’s scribbly handwriting said, “Hiya Buck! I made a bit of commentary and doodles in the book for you, help 

you along. Hope you like it!” 

Bucky smiled and flipped the next page, to the title cover. Steve doodled around the title, making it look like a Now Showing board on Broadway. “ The Great Gatsby ,” Bucky read. He flipped the page again and started to read, occasionally glancing over to Cartoon Steve pointing at a line and commenting or a doodle of the characters’ facial expressions. Some of the lines were underlined, others had exaggerated punctuation around them. Sometimes, when Daisy’s name came up, behind the word a little flower would bloom. 

By the time lunch came around, Bucky was already three chapters in. That’s how Steve found him, lying on his bed with the book held up above his face. “Whatcha think?”

  
“I think,” Bucky said as he sat up and put the book down (he made sure to mark his place), “I owe you an apology.” Steve waved him off and plopped down beside him. “Don’t get all polite. I’m sorry and you’ll forgive me.” 

Steve rolled his eyes, but hugged Bucky anyways. “I’ll always forgive you.” 

Bucky read the book in a day. And at the end, on the back cover, was an intricate drawing of Bucky reading the book on the steps of their building. The sketch him had tears in his eyes and his mouth was open in shock. Cartoon Steve showed up again, as if the bottom of the book was a counter to rest his elbows and head upon. The cartoon said, “Now you’ve finished it. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Happy Eighteenth, Bucky. Love, Steve R. xx” 

Bucky closed the book and rolled over, arm slinging over Steve’s stomach. “I hate you.” 

“Why?”

“I enjoyed reading,” his voice came out muffled against Steve’s shirt and the pillow, but Steve heard him. 

And Bucky could hear his smirk when he said, “Is that so?”

“Yes. Now discuss with me. Who was your favorite character and why?” Bucky sat up a little, eyes glued on Steve’s. 

“Gatsby. I connected with his storyline in general, everything about him from his relationship to his personality. Well, most of it anyway.” Steve was honest, but he wasn’t as honest as he wanted to be. He wanted to say that Bucky was his Daisy. . . 

“I like Nick. He’s just a good, honest man.” Bucky laid back on his own pillow, glad to be free from his hangover. 

“I can see that,” Steve said. 

“Hey Stevie?” 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” 

   
“Anytime, Buck. Anytime.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not edited. 
> 
> If you want more, check out my tumblr thesteveandbuckystory.tumblr.com where you can find more of these one-shots!


	10. 1935 - Pt. 2

 

_ Chapter Eight                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         _  
  


**1935**

 

April was a quiet month for the boys. They were getting their school work together for the end of the year come May, which Bucky started to realize would be the end of his high school career. It was kind of surreal, the idea of never going to another class. He wasn’t going to college, couldn’t afford it. Besides, Bucky didn’t really have an idea what he’d do. Didn’t matter, it wasn’t happening. 

 

And from the looks of it, he may not be graduating either. 

 

“You’re on the edge of failing,” his math teacher stated after class one day. 

 

“How?” Bucky had been trying, he really was, but math was just hard for him. 

 

Mrs. Patrickson sighed and handed him his last three tests. All of them dawned the markings of a furious red pen and giant ‘F’ in the corner by his name. His shoulders fell and his lips pouted just a little as he slumped in his chair. “I see that you try, Mr. Barnes, but, well,” she didn’t continue, but Bucky knew what she was going to say.  _ Bucky, you’re just not good enough.  _

  
“Is there anything I can do?” Bucky asked, pulling his eyes away from the papers to look her in the eye. The older woman shook her head, her glasses slipping off her nose. “You’d have to pass every test from now until May. If you fail one, you’ll fall too low and it’d be impossible to come back from. It’s a lot of work, but I think you can do it. You’re a smart kid, James.” She leaned forward to pat his hand with her small, dainty one. 

 

He nodded pathetically and moved to stand. “Thank you, Mrs. Patrickson,” he told her before leaving the small classroom. 

 

Steve was waiting for him outside, his books tucked against his chest and his eyes glued to the floor. “Everything okay?” 

 

“Just peachy,” Bucky grumbled and marched on to the courtyard. 

 

Steve followed like a lost puppy, brain searching for every little detail and fact he could. “Something’s up. You didn’t come out of there with a mischievous smirk or a twinkle in your eye, so I’m guessin’ you didn’t do anything to get a detention. Unless they called your Pa? Did she call your Pa, that why you’re pissed?” Bucky shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He really didn’t want to tell Steve, but he knew Steve would help him. If not cheer him up. “Then what’s going on? Why’re you sad?” Bucky shrugged. Steve didn’t ask again, instead waited for Bucky to talk and followed him out the courtyard and down the street. They could see his siblings just up ahead, a block or two down, eager to be home already. Hell, so was Bucky.

 

“Hey, Stevie?” Bucky said after a while. He had slowed down a bit, despite wanting to be home already, enough for him to glance at Steve every now and then. 

 

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve kept his voice quiet as he spoke, his face scrunched with concern. 

 

“Do ya think I’m smart?” Bucky turned to look at him and stopped. 

 

“‘Course I do! Why do you ask?” Steve’s head tilted just a little, not enough for most to notice. Bucky noticed, but he notices everything about Steve. Bucky shrugged and started to walk again. Steve reached out and grabbed his shirt, pulling him back. (Okay, it was more of a tug, but Bucky let Steve pull him back. He’s a good friend like that.) “Bucky, talk to me. What’s with you?” 

 

“I’m failing math, Stevie,” Bucky said quietly, too quietly for the bustling Brooklyn street. “If I get another test wrong, there ain’t no way I’m gonna pass.” 

 

Steve’s shoulders fell, a small, sympathetic smile on his face. Then his face had a new determination on it, one that would inspire anyone to do whatever he said. “I’m gonna help you pass. Whatever it takes, you’re passing that next test. And the one after that. And the one after that.” Steve nodded his head to emphasize the sentence and his determination. 

 

Bucky grinned, he really did have the greatest best friend in the world. . . He slung an arm around Steve’s shoulders and started to walk again. “Thanks, pal.”

 

That afternoon, Steve taught Bucky everything he could. And he redid it all the next day, adding what they went over in class this time. They may not have the same math, but Bucky took pretty good notes surprisingly. It was kind of hard for Steve to believe he was failing. 

 

Bucky ended up passing his next test, which he and Steve celebrated by going to the diner and getting milkshakes. 

 

The next week, Steve stayed home from school on Tuesday with a cold. He promised to help Bucky study when he got home from work, when Bucky would come over to be with Steve for the night. 

 

So Bucky spent the day alone, not really in the mood to hang out with friends. He’d been waiting for school to let out for lunch so he can see Steve for lunch. Until a couple of kids from Steve’s grade that he knew from football sat down beside him in the library.

 

“Hey, Barnes, how ya been?” Nelson asked, he was the tallest of the three and had big buck teeth that Bucky could never ignore. 

 

“Been alright, I s’pose. How ‘bout you fellas?” Bucky asked, looking up from his textbook long enough to make eye contact. 

 

“Good, good,” Parker, the shortest with the biggest nose, replied to which they all agreed. “Where’s your little friend, Rogers, at today?” 

 

Bucky knew that tone, the one bullies used to talk down to Steve. The tone that always made Bucky’s blood boil and his fists clench until his knuckles were white. “Home. Sick.” Bucky’s voice was cold as he replied.

 

“Aww, too bad,” said Robert. 

 

“Is there something I can help you with?” Bucky finally asked, closing his book suddenly. 

 

The three boys exchanged a look, amused. “We’re just curious as to how he’s going to manage without you here to protect him? You and I both know that he ain’t gonna survive on his own round here. I bet he’ll barely even graduate. Cause if we don’t get to him, then someone else will.” 

 

Bucky jumped across the table, grabbing Nelson by the collar and pulling him close. “You touch a single hair on that boy’s head and I will off you,” he hissed. Nelson nodded, eyes wide with fear. Bucky pushed him away, gathered his things and walked off. 

 

He wasn’t going to lie, Steve being on his own here was terrifying. Over the years, the ones when Steve was in a different school from Bucky were usually their hardest years. Steve would come home with different bruises just about every day or he’d have some bandage wrapped around something. Bucky tried hard not to think about it. 

 

He marched on home, not even caring that he still had ten minutes until the bell rang. He was furious, more so with the situation than with anything else. The idea of those jackasses hurting his best friend was maddening. He shook his head and jogged up the steps to their building.

 

Mrs. Rogers was home, making a pot of soup for lunch. “You’re home early,” she called when he walked in. 

 

“Bad day,” he dismissed. Mrs. Rogers nodded. She wanted to ask more, but didn’t want to upset the young boy - no, young man. “How’s Steve?”

 

“He’s asleep right now, but he wasn’t too terrible this morning. Soup should be done in a moment if you want a bowl. Steve needs to wake up to eat some, if you want to wake him up.” Bucky nodded, dropped his books on the table and walked back to Steve’s room. 

 

All the anger disappeared as he looked down at his sleeping friend. His blonde hair was everywhere, his lips parted just so, and his pale cheeks just a little rosy. Bucky’s heart melted, yet ached at the same time. He loved Steve, he really did, but it was never possible and that’s what hurt most. 

 

He climbed into bed with Steve, curling up around him. It was normal for them, but Bucky knew it was probably because he liked Steve. That he subconsciously held him and touched him a bit friendlier than usual. But then again, so did Steve. . .

 

Speaking of Steve, the sickly boy curled into Bucky’s embrace as he woke up. “Is it already night?” he whispered, his deep voice hoarse.

 

Bucky chuckled softly and shook his head. “No, it’s noon. I just stopped by for lunch to check on you. And eat some of your Ma’s chicken noodle soup.” 

 

Steve’s eyes widened a little, still heavy with sleep and red and swollen from the cold. “Chicken noodle?” He sniffled and curled into Bucky more. 

 

“Yeah, chicken noodle. Your Ma wants you to eat. Then we can lay on the couch ‘til I gotta go back to school, okay?” Steve nodded and Bucky reluctantly got back up, moving the covers enough to help Steve up. The boy whined, nuzzling his head back into his pillow. Bucky rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything. He simply picked up the small boy, making sure his thin limbs were all tucked into a blanket, and carried him out into the living room and kitchen. 

 

“Steve, you’re not that sick,” Sarah said with a sigh as she served the boys their soup. Bucky sat down, keeping the sick boy in his lap, and curled his arms around him even more. 

  
“Yes, I am,” he mumbled into Bucky’s chest. 

 

“Bucky, you baby him. He’s like this because of you.” Sarah playfully glared at him, to which Bucky beamed. 

 

“I’ll take credit for this. It’s the only time this punk’s nice.” Steve whined, lifting his head to glare at his brunet friend. Bucky winked at him and pulled their bowls of soup closer. He took turns between feeding himself and Steve, which he secretly loved to do.

 

By the time Bucky left, he wasn’t angry anymore. 

 

A week later, he took his next math test. Bucky walked into the classroom, books clutched to his side. Steve helped him study all last night (they even called in to work, thankfully Mr. Leonard understood the importance) and during breakfast, much to Winifred’s dismay. He was ready, ready to pass and graduate. He was ready to take it, just to get it over with. Bucky was ready.

 

He sat down at his desk in the back, pencil in hand and his ankles crossed. He was leaning forward, the anxiety too much to act relaxed. His hands were shaking, the pencil hitting the desk in a rhythm. 

 

Bucky was surprised. He’d never been this anxious for a test. But a test had never meant so much to him. . . Maybe that’s why he was failing? 

 

Mrs. Patrickson handed out the test and told them to start. Bucky started to scribble the answers down, his handwriting tight and scrawny. He double checked each one, making sure they were right (or close enough. He was trying to pass, not ace it). 

 

Until his brain started to drift off course. 

 

What if he passed and graduated and Steve was bullied even more? What if Steve picked one too many fights? It’d be his fault. It’d all be his fault. He wouldn’t be around to protect Steve all the time, he had to work. 

 

Bucky felt sick. He was starting to get a headache and his stomach felt like it was in knots. 

 

He wanted to graduate, obviously. But he wanted Steve safe even more. 

 

Bucky dropped his pencil. He stood up, test in one hand and his books in the other. He gave Mrs. Patrickson his test and walked out. 

 

Three days later, Steve walked with him to find out what he made. Bucky never told Steve he walked out and he definitely didn’t tell him he didn’t finish the test on purpose. Mrs. Patrickson handed Bucky the test, a look of pure disappointment on her face. “You were doing so good, James.” 

 

Bucky flipped through it. Almost every answered question was right. He would have passed if he finished. . . 

 

Bucky shrugged, threw away the test, and slung an arm over Steve’s shoulder. “C’mon, Ma’s making lunch.” And the two walked out, small, shy smiles on their faces. 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

 

When summer approached, everyone seemed to be throwing parties for graduation or some other thing Bucky never seemed to remember. Sometimes, he’d go and find a couple of dates for him and Steve to go with. Other times, he’d go alone. 

 

Steve enjoyed the parties sometimes, he liked watching Bucky dance with his date or some other girl. He even drank every now and then, but it usually didn’t take long for him to get drunk so he tried not to drink too much. Bucky, on the other hand, drank until he was drunk and nothing less. 

 

“‘Nother party tonight,” Bucky said as they walked home from the grocer. Steve nodded, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Wanna go?”

 

“We don’t have dates,” Steve mumbled.

 

“We don’t need dates. We’ll find girls at the party. I’m sure you’ll save enough from assholes that one will give you a pity dance.” Bucky bumped into his shoulder a little, not hard enough to knock him down.

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Oh gee, thanks.” 

 

Bucky spun around, walking a little ahead of Steve and turned around so he was walking backwards. “Whatcha say?” 

 

“Think I’ll pass tonight, Buck. Ma wants me up early to go help her at the hospital. She wants me to try and teach the kids to draw, thinks it’ll help them,” Steve explained. 

 

Bucky nodded and turned to walk the right way again. “Sounds like something you’d do. Why don’t you have a girl again?” 

 

Steve laughed and pushed him. Bucky’s grin grew wider and pushed him back. Their laughter echoed in the somewhat empty street, making their neighbors grumble and glare and the kids peek their heads out their bedroom windows. 

 

Bucky ended up picking Steve up, slinging him over his shoulder. “Put me down, jerk,” Steve tried through his laughter.

 

“No can do, pal. You might step on a crack, wouldn’t want Sarah to wake up with a broken back would we?” Bucky teased, bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

 

“You were the one who told me that, you jackass!” Steve hit Bucky’s back with his fists, not trying to do any damage but enough to get his attention.

 

“Doesn’t mean you had to believe it.”

 

“I was nine!”

 

“So? Should’a been smarter.” 

 

“You’re a dick.” 

 

“Shut up, punk.” 

 

Steve pouted, arms crossed and his bottom lip pushed out as far as he could. Bucky started to whistle and made a show of only have to use one arm to keep Steve in place. He made it look so easy to lift up the little guy, as if he were a couple sacks of potatoes from the grocer. It was something Steve envied. 

 

Bucky jogged up the steps, and then up the stairs. A young woman was walking down the stairs, which is when Steve started to slip a little. “Excuse us, ma’am,” Bucky told her smoothly. Steve could practically hear his charming smile and his flirty eyes. (Bucky’s eyes always seemed to be a darker shade of blue when he started to flirt or when the two of them would hang out, Steve thought his eyes looked prettiest then. Especially when the light hit them a certain way and they’d twinkle just so.) 

 

“Not too often you see a strong boy carrying his friend up the stairs,” the woman added.

 

“He’s got weak lungs. Can barely walk without passing out,” Bucky explained, making sure to hike Steve backup his shoulder. Steve’s head bobbled, accidentally hitting Bucky’s ass in the process. 

 

Bucky bit his lip as the woman giggled (and as he felt Steve’s face hit his ass, but he wasn’t about to admit that.) “Well then, you’re a good friend.” She touched Bucky’s arm before walking down the stairs again. 

 

“Need someone to walk you. . . wherever you’re going?” Bucky asked, maneuvering himself and Steve to look down at her. 

 

“I can manage, but thank you.” She left and Bucky turned back to jog up the stairs.

 

“You did that on purpose,” Steve grumbled when Bucky set him down by his doorstep. He still had his arms crossed and his lips were still pouted. Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, at Steve and the situation. He just looked so cute like that. . . 

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bucky started towards the stairs, ready to rush up the stairs to his apartment. “See ya tomorrow afternoon?” Steve nodded, hands stuffed in his pocket again. “You know, if you want, you can come over to the party? You can meet me there. It’s just at Bennett's place, you know where that is?” Steve nodded. “I can’t promise I won’t drink too much, but I’ll be there if you want.” 

Steve shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Thanks for the offer, but I need as much sleep as I can get. I’ll see ya later. Night Buck.”

 

“Night Stevie,” Bucky said. He watched Steve slip into the apartment and rushed up stairs. 

 

His head was swirling with thoughts of Steve, just like it always was. He was in love and it hurt him so much. . . 

 

A couple of hours later, well into the night, Bucky was gone. He was drunk and high and reeked of vomit and cigarettes. He was kissing random girls, trying desperately to get Steve out of his head. Nothing was working and he was desperate. If he couldn’t love Steve, then he needed to get out of this headspace. He needed to stop thinking about what it’d be like to hold Steve as close as he possibly could, what his lips would taste like, and if he was cuddliest after sex or during his sleep. Don’t even get him started on sex. . . 

 

Bucky groaned into the girl’s mouth and grabbed at her hips. He pulled her close, their legs between each other’s. He knew she felt how hard he was, the way she gasped when he pulled her even tighter against him. She was fuller than Steve, her hips wider and her lips thicker. It was nothing like kissing Steve would be, nothing at all, but he needed it. Needed to get his mind off him.

 

Steve, meanwhile, was having the same problem. Kinda. He didn’t have a girl to help him get through it. He was in bed and all he could think about was Bucky. Bucky’s smile, his eyes, his nose, his chin, his jaw, his biceps, his ass, his chest. . . Bucky. 

 

His breathing was labored as he touched himself, his mind playing tricks on him. He imagined his own hand was Bucky’s, pretended that Bucky was talking to him in that deep, sleepy voice he always has late at night or early in the morning. Steve loved that voice. . . 

 

It was getting harder for him to breath and his arm was starting to hurt. But when he reached that familiar feeling, all he could think about was that first time Bucky helped him through it. 

 

But once he finished and got himself cleaned, he couldn’t calm his breathing. He got dressed and fixed his hair as he went through his breathing exercises. 

 

And then, Steve went into a full blown attack. He couldn’t breath and he was coughing. “Ma,” he yelled between coughs. 

 

Sarah came running in, switching back and forth between mom and nurse modes. “We need to get you to the hospital,” she said after his coughing got worse. 

 

When Steve was settled in his hospital room with an oxygen tank hooked to him, Bucky came bursting through the room. “Stevie?” He slurred and grabbed a hold of the doorframe. 

“Buck?” Steve wheezed as he sat up. Bucky stumbled forward and fell into the chair beside him. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Went home an’ Ma said you were here,” he mumbled. “Got scared.”

 

“Are you drunk?” Bucky nodded. “You need to go home, Bucky. Go sleep it off.” Bucky shook his head and laid his head on the bed beside Steve. “Bucky,” Steve tried.

 

“No, no Steve. I’m not goin’. Can’t leave you.” Bucky looked up at him, eyes watery and his lips pouty. “So worried ‘bout you, Stevie. Always am, but usually I’m ‘round you. You always scare me, never really stop worryin’ ‘bout you. Never stop thinkin’ ‘bout you, neither.” Bucky started to ramble as he moved the chair closer.

 

Steve’s heart rate picked up a little. “Bucky, what are you talking about?” 

 

“Tried to get my head out of you, really did.” Steve bit his lip, but he didn’t correct him. “Girls just don’t look as pretty as you do. Not as cute. Always scare me, Stevie. I hate this, I do. I hate that I can’t stop thinking ‘bout you. I hate that I can’t stop feelin’ like this. I hate that I can’t be with you. I hate that I hurt you. I hate that you consume me. I hate this helplessness.” Bucky started to cry, sobbing into the mattress. Steve ran his hand through Bucky’s hair absentmindedly. “I don’t like seeing you like this. I don’t like keeping secrets, not from you. Never from you.”

 

“Bucky, it’s okay,” Steve whispered. 

 

“No,” Bucky shouted, before he whimpered. “No. I gotta say it, Stevie. Gotta tell you. Gotta make sure you know, just in case. No regrets-”

 

“Buck, it’s just an asthma attack.”

 

“Don’t just an attack me,” Bucky grumbled. Steve nodded, urging him to go on. “I hate feeling like this. I hate bein’ scared, ‘specially knowing what people like me get when they show it. I hate everything about this. . . ‘Cept you. No matter what, I can’t hate you. God, I love you. I really do. I love you.” 

  
Steve was crying at this point. He grabbed Bucky, pulling him close. “I love you, too,” he whispered into his neck. They were both crying and Steve’s oxygen seemed to be working in overdrive. 

 

Bucky ended up sleeping beside Steve, holding him just like always. When Sarah walked into the hospital room, she just smiled. She couldn't ask for a better friend for her baby boy. 

 

If only she knew. 

 

The next day, when Bucky was finally done with his hangover and he could think clearly, he asked Steve what happened. “I’m not telling you,” Steve mumbled. The blonde crossed his arms, a deep blush painting his pale skin in blotches.

 

“Oh, c’mon Stevie. I professed my love for you last night, the least you can do is explain to me why you gave me a heartattack,” Bucky whispered as he gently pushed Steve. 

 

Steve shook his head. “No.”

 

“Please?” Bucky begged, making sure his eyes were big and his eyebrows were furrowed. It was a look he stole from Steve. 

 

Steve tried his best to avoid all eye contact, but he couldn’t help himself. He sighed, head hidden behind his hands. “Promise not to laugh?” 

 

Bucky nodded eagerly, until he realized Steve couldn’t see him with his hands covering his eyes. “Of course, who would I tell?” Steve mumbled something and his ears grew pink. “Didn’t catch that, Stevie.” Steve grumbled it a little, splaying his fingers to peek through. Bucky was still clueless, “Try again.” Steve sighed before he covered his again and made an obscene gesture with his right hand, acting out the action that caused his asthma attack. 

 

Bucky wouldn’t stop laughing. A nurse had to come in three times to hush him. Steve grumbled and glared at him, whining about how it’s not that funny. “Oh, Stevie,” Bucky said through his laughter, “you are never living this down.” 

 

Steve sighed and hid his face in the pillow. “You’re a dick.”

 

“But you love me, said so yourself.” Bucky gave him a cheesy grin, his face as bright as the lights hanging above them.

 

Steve couldn’t deny it. . .

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Things didn’t change all that much between the boys. They seemed to be closer, to touch each other longer, to smile a little wider. So when school started and the two realized they had all the same classes (including Mrs. Patrickson’s math class much to Bucky’s dismay), they were overjoyed. Bucky didn’t care about his friends, he didn’t care about the other kids around him, he only ever cared about Steve. Steve, who only had a few other friends that weren’t also Bucky’s, was also more involved in Bucky. He just wanted to be around him, to be with him whenever he could. 

 

It was as close as they could be. 

 

“I think we should do somethin’ tonight. Go to a party or find a place we can go to, be ourselves,” Bucky said as they walked to their first class. 

 

“Whatcha mean?” Steve asked. 

 

“I mean,” Bucky lowered his voice, “finding some where I can take you dancin’ and maybe have a drink or two.” 

 

Steve blushed, his whole body turning pink. “Buck, I’ve told you. I can’t dance.”

 

“All the more reason to teach you.” Bucky winked at him. It was then Steve wished he’d kiss him, kiss him ‘til his lips were blue. But they hadn’t talked about it nor shown any initiative to act upon it. Bucky leaned in and whispered, “I love you,” in Steve’s ear. 

 

Steve smile grew, but he didn’t return the sweet sentiment. Bucky nearly fainted last time he said it, and not in a romantic kind of way. Apparently, since his voice got deeper, Steve forgot how to whisper. Or maybe he just couldn’t? Either way, he talks too loud for quiet, little confessions like that. Especially in public. Bucky had been so mad when he almost told their entire English class that he loved Bucky, to the point Bucky wouldn’t even look at him until they were home. 

 

“I wish I could say the same,” Steve mumbled. Bucky gasped in mock-horror and grabbed his chest. “You know what I meant!” Steve laughed, bumping his shoulder against Bucky. 

 

“Yeah, I know,” he slung an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Do you remember when we were little and played soldier?”

 

“Yeah, after my Ma finally told me what really happened to my father? You tried to cheer me up by saying I was as brave as him, that if I were a soldier I’d be the best out there.” Steve leaned into Bucky’s touch. 

 

Bucky nodded and opened the door to their class, letting Steve in first. The blonde ducked under Bucky’s arm and walked to their seats in the middle of the room. “Remember that radio story we used to listen to? The one about the soldiers?”

 

“‘Course I do. We used to play soldier until that came on, then we’d act like the story was about us. It’s one of my favorites.” Steve pulled out his books and flipped to the page the teacher instructed. “Where you goin’ with this?” 

 

Bucky laughed a little and told him, “Just hang on. I’m getting somewhere. What was our favorite line? We said it constantly for like two weeks after we first heard it. You remember it?” 

 

Steve laughed, a stupid-in-love grin splattered across his face. “‘Til the end of the line,” he whispered (kind of). 

 

They leaned in a little, their bodies draped across the aisle. “What if,” Bucky said quietly, “we said that in public? We can’t get caught and only we’d know what it meant. So if you accidentally shout it out for the world to know, we ain’t gonna be in any trouble.” Steve blushed and nodded, but he didn’t get a chance to say anything else before Mrs. Ester started class.

 

“‘Til the end of the line,” Steve mouthed. 

 

“‘Til the end of the line,” Bucky whispered back.  

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Steve was shivering underneath his covers and his mother’s covers as he sat on the couch. Sarah was worried, trying to figure out how to keep her baby warm. “I’m making soup, maybe that’ll help?” Steve shrugged and snuggled further into his blankets. He was really glad Bucky made him stay home now. 

 

It was late December and the boys were out of school already, but that didn’t mean they were off of work. But the weather had gotten so bad with the temperatures constantly dropping and snow constantly, Bucky didn’t like the idea of Steve leaving much. So he talked to his boss and told him Steve got sick far too easily for him to be out and about during the colder months. Which left Steve all bundled up at home while Bucky went out and worked his ass off in the cold. 

 

“Is Bucky coming straight here or is going upstairs first?” Sarah asked. She was worried Steve wouldn’t make it through the night, just like every night, unless Bucky was there to keep him warm. Of course, if she knew what was really going on between her son and the Barnes’ boy, she may not be so eager to let him practically live with her son. 

 

“Dunno, didn’t say.” Steve felt awful, like a burden on everyone’s lives on days like this. He was sure Bucky would get fed up one day and leave him. Bucky didn’t know this of course, because if he did, he’d punch the little punk for even thinking like that. 

 

Sarah sighed. She walked over and sat beside him, pulling him and the mass of blankets closer. “I wish the heater worked better. Then maybe you wouldn’t need so many blankets.” 

 

“Ma, I’m okay,” he said with his teeth chattering.

 

“No, you’re not. You’re body barely makes enough heat to keep you warm, unless you’re sick and then the fever is too much for it to handle. I just wish you weren’t always at risk of being sick,” she whispered. Sarah always felt like this, like it was her fault her baby was so sick. “Even when the doctor told me about the heart palpitations or the high blood pressure, I felt like that’s all my fault. And the fevers,” she let out a strangled sob, “I bring them home from work and I don’t even notice.” 

 

“Ma, you’re doing your best.” Steve opened the blankets for a moment and curled up next to his mother, draping the blankets around her too. “You’re the best mom a kid could ask for. You always know just what I need and when I need it and you always try to make sure I’m okay, even when you work late or can’t get a holiday off. You make sure I’m taken care of. It’s not your fault my immune system is weak.”

 

Bucky opened the door and peeked his head in. He took off his hat and shrugged off his coat, trying not to make too much noise as he hung them both up. He crept back out and jogged upstairs, leaving the mother and son to hold each other for a few minutes longer. “Evenin’ folks,” he announced as he walked into his house. 

 

“How was work?” Winifred asked.

 

“Good. Boring. Work?” Bucky made a face and moved past her to snag an spoonful of chili. “Taste good,” he mumbled. He grabbed a bowl, making sure it was smaller than his usual ‘cause he’s pretty sure he smelt soup when he snuck into the Rogers’ and he had manners. He’d eat if asked to join, which was inevitable. 

 

“You goin’ to Steve’s?” George asked. Bucky nodded and sat down at the table, wolfing down spoonfuls at a time. “You ever comin’ home?”

 

“Yup.” Bucky said between bites.

 

“When?”

 

“Christmas Eve. Sarah’s finally got Christmas mornin’ off and I don’t want to intrude. They haven’t had Christmas together like that since,” he paused to take another bite, “‘27?” 

 

“Really? What a shame,” Winifred said. “How’s it taste? Is it too cold? Wasn’t sure when you were getting home?”

 

“It’s perfect, Ma.” Bucky grinned up at her and stuffed his spoon in his mouth for emphasis. She laughed and slapped his shoulder, mumbling something about his manners. “My manners are great, thank you.” 

 

Winifred kissed his hair. “I know, I taught you right.” She turned back to the kitchen, scrubbing away at the dishes. “Oh, be sure to invite Sarah and Steve for Christmas dinner when you go back down. I want us all to have a nice, big dinner like Sarah and I’ve been planning since we first met.” 

 

Bucky saluted her and finished his bowl. He handed her the empty bowl and utensil with a kiss to her cheek. “Will do,” he told her. Then he marched himself back to his room to grab his things he’d need to shower with. It was quick, enough to get the chill off of him and wash off the grime and sweat. He was out and dressed, ready to go snuggle with his best guy. 

 

“You headin’ out?” Bucky nodded and went around the room saying goodnight to his family, all except his father. 

 

“Night, Pops.” Bucky walked out the apartment and jogged back down the stairs with a practiced ease. He entered the Rogers’ apartment, closing the door louder than usual to make his presence noticed. “Evenin’ Rogers!” He called as he walked in. He went to toe off his boots, when he realized he was in nothing more than his socks. 

 

Steve was still curled up on the couch, but Sarah was now in the kitchen. “Did you really go upstairs to shower before coming back down?” Steve asked him, a shiver evident in his voice. Bucky shrugged, a goofy grin in his voice. “You’re such a dummy.” 

 

“You were having a tinder moment with your mommy! I couldn’t interrupt!” He teased as he opened the blankets around Steve to crawl in beside him. Bucky wrapped his arms around his friend, making sure the blankets were wrapped around them. “Feel better, punk?”

 

Steve nodded and curled into Bucky. “Missed you,” he mumbled. 

 

“Missed you, too. Work got boring without you to check on.” Bucky rested his head on Steve’s and laid them both back along the couch. 

 

“Wish I could still go, but then again. . .” Steve giggled. “I like this.”

 

“I know you do, that’s why I told him to let you go for the winter,” Bucky whispered. He kissed Steve’s head, lingering for a moment. 

 

It was times like this, when they were just being together, that Bucky wished he could kiss him. Yeah sure they’ve been together for at almost seven months, but given the fact Steve had never truly been kissed. . . Bucky was hesitant. He wanted Steve’s first kiss to be perfect. 

 

“I really do love you,” Steve whispered. The shiver in his voice and the chatter of his teeth had started to stop, the warmth Bucky was radiating finally seeping into his bones. 

 

“I love you, too.” Bucky held him tighter, snuggling into him and the blankets. 

 

A few days later, it was Christmas Eve and the boys were going to be in separate beds for the first time since winter started. “Maybe I should stay the night? I can always get up super early to go back home?” 

 

Steve shook his head, leaning against Bucky’s arm. “No, you need to be with your family. I’m gonna sleep in Ma’s bed tonight I think. Like I used to before you came around.” Steve mumbled. He didn’t like it, but he would tolerate it so Bucky could spend the holidays with the his family.

 

“You sure?” Bucky bit his lip, turning to glance down at Steve. 

 

“No, but I want you to spend time with you family. We’ll both be graduated next year, probably won’t be livin’ with our folks,” Steve said. 

 

Bucky stared at him with a look of pure admiration. “You’re too much,” he whispered. Steve blushed from the tip of his head to the bottom of his feet, shying away from Bucky’s admiration. “I guess, I better get going then.” They stood and Bucky held Steve in his arms for a bit too long. “Sleep well, my love,” he whispered dramatically. 

 

Steve pushed him away with a goofy grin. “Get outta here before I catch your stupid.” Bucky flipped him off as he jogged up the stairs. 

 

“‘Til the end of the line, Stevie!” Bucky called down from the railing in front of his apartment. 

 

“‘Til the end of the line,” Steve echoed. They held each other’s gaze before slipping into their respective apartments. 

 

The next morning, Steve and Sarah woke up early, but not too early. “Merry Christmas, Steven,” Sarah said, her voice deeper with sleep. 

 

“Merry Christmas, Ma,” Steve mumbled as they both crawled out of her bed, Steve taking the big covers with him. Sarah rolled her eyes, but followed him into the living room. 

 

Above them, the sounds of feet pattering around in a mixture of heavy thuds and soft pads signaled the Barnes’ were up and moving. “Looks like they’re up too,” Sarah said with a yawn as she started a mug of coffee. 

 

“They’ve been up for a while, I heard Daisy and Bucky running around about an hour ago. We really gotta tell him to stop stomping, I can’t imagine what the Johnson’s think when he stays the night.” Steve plopped himself on the couch, still curled in the blanket. 

 

Sarah laughed softly and hugged her robe close to herself. “Leave ‘im be. He’s a growing boy, still trying to figure out how his body works and moves.” She paused for a moment as she leaned against the doorframe. “You and Bucky have gotten closer since that last asthma attack. What happened?”

 

Steve shrugged, trying desperately to hide the blush he knew was inevitable. “Guess I scared him one too many times? I’m not sure. . .” 

 

Sarah nodded and went to grab two mugs of coffee. When she returned, she handed one to Steve and kept the other nestled between her hands. “I’m glad you met him all those years ago. I don’t think I would have been able to handle you without him.” Steve laughed and sipped at his bitter coffee. 

 

For a moment, all you could hear was the thumping of the Barnes’ children feet and their soft squeals of excitement. “This house is too quiet for Christmas morning,” she said after a while. Steve nodded and suddenly they were both gathering all the presents under the little tree they had in the corner. They carried them all up the flight of stairs and knocked on the door. 

 

Bucky opened the door with a grin, as if he knew who would be on the other side. “Mind if we join?” Steve asked from under the pile of presents. Sarah was carrying their coffee, her robe tied around her waist elegantly. 

 

“Absolutely not!” Bucky took some of the presents from Steve’s arms and leaned over to kiss Sarah’s cheek. “Merry Christmas,” he told them both as he let them in. “The Rogers are here!” He called into the apartment. Steve entered the room, setting the presents down beside the tree that still had all it’s presents neatly organized beneath it. Bucky dropped the few he had and slung an arm over Steve’s shoulder. “We may or may not have been waiting for you two,” he whispered.

 

Steve rolled his eyes and slapping Bucky’s stomach. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

 

“Anytime, baby,” Bucky whispered. 

 

“Can we open presents now?” Eugene whined from his spot next to Daisy on the floor. Sarah handed Steve his coffee and sat beside Winifred, who greeted them both with a brilliant, yet tired smile. 

 

“Hang on,” Bucky announced before he stumbled off to grab his comforter from his bedroom. “Steve isn’t properly covered, don’t want him catching a disease cause his fingers are showing.” Steve glared at him, as Bucky dropped the covers around his shoulders. 

 

“You’re a jerk,” Steve said. Bucky stuck his tongue out and sat beside him, a good foot of space between them. Bucky never touched Steve more than necessary around his father, Steve didn’t ask why. Around their mothers? They were practically on top of each other, so Steve wasn’t quite sure what the deal was, but he trusted Bucky and wasn’t about to pry. 

 

“Now can we?” Eugene said as he glared at Bucky. 

 

“Yes, but I call playing Santa!” Bucky beamed as he scrambled up to grab the presents. He handed out all the presents from Santa first, giving Eugene and Daisy their bigger gifts. Becky, Bucky, and Steve were too old for Santa gifts (it was Eugene’s last year of getting Santa gifts), but they didn’t mind. Especially Bucky, who may or may not have helped buy the Santa gifts in the first place. Eugene got a new baseball bat, which he made Bucky promise they’d got out and practice later that day, and Daisy got a brand new doll she’d been asking for. 

Then Bucky handed all five kids the presents from Winifred and George, all varying in shapes and sizes. Daisy got a few doll accessories, Eugene a new ball, Rebecca got a pretty new dress Winifred had made, Bucky got a new leather jacket, and Steve got a new set of drawing pencils. “Thank you so much,” Steve told them as he looked over each pencil. 

 

“You’re welcome, dear,” Winifred said sweetly. It always made her smile watching Steve act so grateful for everything, she knew Sarah was proud of her son’s behavior. Just like she was of Bucky. 

 

Next came the presents from Sarah. She gave Daisy a new stroller for her dolls, Eugene a new glove, Rebecca a new skirt, Bucky a new pair of boots (which were exactly like his old ones and came from one of the Doctor’s at work who’s son had already outgrown them only after a couple of wears, but Bucky loved them nonetheless), and Steve got a new pencil case. It was metal and silver and inside on the lid, Sarah had engraved a small little to her one and only son. 

 

_ To Steven,  _

 

_ May you always find time to enjoy the simplest of things and embrace your talents as part of who you are.  _

 

_ Love, Your Mommy xxx _

 

If anyone noticed Steve tear up, they didn’t say anything. He crawled over to Sarah, the covers falling off his shoulders, and held her close. “Thank you, Ma,” he whispered.

 

“You’re welcome, my sweet boy.” Sarah kissed his head and held him tighter. When she let go, Steve crawled back over to his seat beside Bucky and cuddled back in his covers. (He so didn’t cover his face to see if he could smell Bucky in the covers. Not at all.)

 

Bucky gave him a second to get situated before he gave out his presents. He gave everyone but Steve a small present. “Later, yeah?” Steve nodded, content with watching everyone else open theirs.

 

“Why didn’t you give Steve his?” Daisy asked.

 

“Because I didn’t actually get him anything,” Bucky stage-whispered. Steve rolled his eyes and hide further in the covers. Daisy started to scold Bucky for being so mean, before Bucky leaned in to whisper in her ear. She seemed happy with his answer, since she started to open her present. 

 

Bucky got Daisy a new dress for her doll, Eugene a new baseball cap that matched the ones he and Steve got at a Dodgers game last spring, Rebecca a book Steve thought she might like, Winifred got a new hat, George got a new tie, and Sarah got a new apron. Next were Steve’s presents, which was really framed portraits of each individual that looked professionally made. He didn’t have enough money to buy everyone a gift, but he did get Bucky and Sarah something. Bucky set his to the side, mouthing ‘I’ll open it later’ as he handed Sarah her’s. 

 

Steve had gotten Sarah a new necklace, a locket with a picture of the two of them inside. It took almost all his spending money, but the dealer at the pawn shop was really generous. (Steve thinks he thought he was dying. He didn’t bother correcting him.) “Oh, sweetheart. This is beautiful.” Sarah gasped as she held it up for everyone to see. 

 

“Steve, that’s breathtaking!” Winifred awed, a hand on Sarah’s arm as she peered into the locket with her friend. 

 

Sarah looked to Steve with a small, watery smile. “Would you mind putting it on me?” Steve nodded and crawled over, helping his mother put the locket on. “Thank you, Steve,” she whispered. He hugged her tight and kissed her cheek before moving back to his spot beside Bucky. 

 

Later that evening, after a day full of laughter and eating, Steve and Bucky snuck off to the roof. “Today was great,” Bucky said as they snuggled under a blanket. They had brought up their presents and mugs of hot chocolate, ready to spend the last few minutes of Christmas huddled together under a ton of blankets. 

 

“It really was,” Steve agreed. 

 

“I’ve been anxious about giving you your present all day,” Bucky admitted.

 

Steve looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed and a bashful smile on his lips. “Why? You know I’d love anything you got me. Honestly, you didn’t have to get me anything.” 

 

Bucky giggled (a manly- no, it wasn’t manly at all. It was giddy and gushy and full of emotion and happiness) and held Steve closer. “I don’t care. I like giving you stuff.” 

 

“You’re too good to me,” Steve whispered. 

 

“I could say the same.” Bucky bit his lip, eyes twinkling under the moonlight. He leaned forward to grab his mug of hot chocolate and took a sip before he grabbed Steve’s present. “Open,” he demanded.

 

Steve grinned and took the present, opening it to find a copy of  The Great Gatsby . He flipped through the book, noticing Bucky’s handwriting scribbled in the margins and a doodle every now and then. “Oh Buck,” he giggled. “Thank you, it’s my favorite copy.” 

 

“You haven’t even read it yet!” Bucky teased, leaning in to hug him. 

 

“Doesn’t matter.” Steve nuzzled his face into the crook of Bucky’s neck and held him close for a second. He pulled away and grabbed Bucky’s present. “Your turn,” he whispered.

 

Bucky opened the box, finding a watch wrapped in newspaper beneath it all. “Holy shit Steve!” he gasped, holding up the watch to see it from every angle. “How much did this cost you?” 

 

“I’m not telling you,” Steve stated, “and you can’t try to pawn it off because I had it engraved.” 

 

Bucky flipped it over, noticing in a smooth lettering the phrase _ ‘Til the end of the line, Bucky _ was engraved on the back. “Damn, Steve, this had to cost a fortune.” 

 

“I had enough. Helps that I look like a sick kid who’s on his deathbed,” Bucky glared at Steve but chuckled nonetheless. “I also know some people, helped with the engraving. Oh, and before you flip out,” Steve pulled out a piece of paper folded up, “I did get you a drawing.” Bucky laughed, his eyes watering a little as he opened the drawing to see him and Steve curled against each other in the cold sharing a secret smile. 

 

“When did I get so lucky?” Bucky asked. He put the watch on and tucked the drawing in his pocket. 

 

“I could ask the same,” Steve teased. 

 

And suddenly, Bucky was leaning forward. He couldn’t think of a more beautiful moment than this to give Steve his first kiss. Nothing was better than this. Just the two of them, curled up under most of their blankets with their limbs everywhere and mugs of hot chocolate (that were starting to get really cold) underneath the starry sky. It was cheesy and romantic and perfect. . . .

 

Steve’s breath hitched as he felt a gravitating pull and subconsciously leaned forward. 

 

Their noses bumped, their eyes fighting to stay open. It was intense, yet simple. It was them. And then Bucky just barely whispered a soft, “Can I kiss you?” 

 

“You don’t have to ask,” Steve replied just in time before Bucky was kissing Steve. Bucky was  _ kissing _ Steve. Their lips were touching and then they were moving slowly and together. Steve felt like he had been missing out on something so incredible, so intimate, for months. It was everything he had ever hoped his first kiss to be, everything he thought kissing Bucky should be like. . .

 

Bucky had never had a kiss this magical before. It had never been this precious. He felt like he couldn’t - wouldn’t - stop kissing Steve, because if he stopped the world would shatter around him. His lips were so soft, so delicate. They weren’t even making out, but it took everything in him not to moan Steve’s name. 

 

But all good things come to an end eventually. Steve felt a familiar burn in his lungs before he pulled away with a gasp. He was wheezing, but Bucky was there and that’s all that mattered. He could go into an asthma attack and just breathe in Bucky and he’d be okay. Bucky pressed their foreheads together, breathing just as heavy as Steve. 

 

“I love you.”

  
“I love you, too.”


	11. 1936

_ Chapter Nine _

 

#  **1936**

 

Steve laid his head on Bucky’s bare chest, rising with each breath Bucky took. Bucky held him close, his arms gathered around him as tight as he could. They were laying in Steve’s bed, both of them still damp from the showers (emphasis on the ‘s’) they just took. 

 

“I like this,” Bucky said, his chest vibrating against Steve’s ear. 

 

The blonde smiled softly, pressing himself closer to his boyfriend. God, Bucky was his  _ boyfriend _ . Even after ten months of them being together it was hard to comprehend that Bucky was  _ his _ . “Me too,” he whispered. 

 

“What are we going to do after high school?” Bucky asked, shifting so he can see Steve a bit better. 

 

Steve moved to lay his chin on Bucky’s chest, his thin arms moving to either side of him. “I don’t know, what’d you have planned before you got held back?”

 

Bucky sighed and Steve giggled a bit as he moved with his chest. “You’re a dork,” Bucky said. He shook his head and leaned back against the pillow that was a little damp from his hair being wet. “I was just gonna live with my folks until you got out of school. I figured by then, I’d have a good job and have enough money saved to buy us a nice little apartment. That was before we got together, though. Things can change-” Bucky felt Steve shake his head. Bucky nodded, his lips curling into a grin. “I take it you like that plan?”

 

“As much as I love hearing you talk,” Steve admitted. He laid his head against Bucky’s chest again, running his fingers along the span of Bucky’s chest. 

 

Bucky let out a breathy laugh and brought his hand up to cup Steve’s face. “God, I love you,” he whispered. 

 

“I love you, too,” Steve mumbled. He leaned forward and captured Bucky’s lips between his. Bucky smiled into the kiss, his hand sliding to the back of his neck. “Your lips taste incredible” Steve whispered. 

 

Bucky smirked and kissed down Steve’s jaw. “You should taste-” the sound of a door slamming shut caused the two to jump apart. “Shit,” Bucky mumbled as they both scrambled to grab their boxers.  “Thought you said your Ma wasn’t going to be home for a while?”

 

Steve glanced at the watch on Bucky’s wrist. “She’s on time. Guess we lost track of time. . .” He pulled on his boxers and a pair of pajama bottoms before he slipped out the bedroom to greet his mother. 

 

“Wait,” Bucky hissed and grabbed Steve’s arm. He snatched him inside, both of them stumbling on their pajamas. “Fix your hair, dammit,” Bucky mumbled. He ran his fingers through Steve’s hair, easing it into place again. When he finished, he pecked Steve’s lips and turned him back to the door. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he whispered before he slapped Steve’s ass. 

 

Steve bit his lip, a giggle desperate to slip as he grabbed his ass. “Jerk.” 

 

“Punk.” Bucky stuck out his tongue and shut the bedroom door. 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Another month and the big day arrived. Steve and Bucky were graduating. “Can you believe it?” Bucky asked him as he fixed his hair in the mirror. 

 

“It’s been a long thirteen years,” Steve started, “or fourteen in your case.” Bucky fake laughed and bumped Steve’s hip with his. 

 

“Don’t act like you hated it. Besides, if I hadn’t gotten myself held back, you’d never get to say you dated the school quarterback and football captain,” Bucky teased. 

 

Steve blushed and continued tying his tie. “Touche.” 

 

“Anyways,” Bucky started as he got ready to shave, “some of the guys are having a party later tonight. Wanna go check it out? Or are you going to turn into an old man when the clock strikes seven?” 

 

It was Steve’s turn to fake laugh, but he decided not to bump hips with him since he had a razor on his throat. He did, however, stop to admire how he looked in his white wife beater and slacks. “How do you make getting ready look so good?” Steve whispered. 

 

Bucky smirked and set down the razor, his face and neck partially covered in shaving cream. “Is that so?” 

 

Steve nodded, an unashamed smile on his face. “If I can look at this everyday, I’d be happy.”

 

“Good news,” he whispered, “you’ll get to once we scrounge up enough money to get an apartment.” Bucky shut the door with his foot and grabbed Steve by his hips. He stole a kiss, smearing the shaving cream all over Steve’s face. He pulled back with a laugh, watching as Steve struggled to get the cream off his face without it getting on his church outfit. 

“When’d you get to be a jerk?” Steve asked with a glare. 

  
“Had to be. How else was I supposed to cope with dealin’ with you?” Steve pushed him, smearing the cream on his hands onto his arms. “You really wanna go there?” Steve laughed and nodded. Bucky grabbed Steve, wretched the door open, and rushed into the living room. He tossed Steve onto the couch and wrestled Steve into a tickle fight. 

 

Steve’s laughter erupted into the apartment, echoing off the walls littered in picture frames. “Buck! B-bucky, stop!” Steve tried, pushing Bucky's’ hands away. 

 

“What was that?” Bucky asked, his face bright with glee. 

 

“P-please!” Steve gasped. 

 

“James Buchanan Barnes, what on earth are you doing?” Winifred yelled as she walked into the living room. She was putting in her pearls, her hair and makeup already done and her dress already on. “Steven, you’re wrinkling your shirt. Get up, the both of you,” she demanded. 

 

Bucky and Steve both jumped up and apart, all breathless and giggles. “Sorry, Ma.” He moved to push past her, kissing her cheek as he went. 

 

“Sorry, Mrs. Barnes,” Steve told her. 

 

She waved them both off. “Steve, take off that shirt. I’ll iron it real quick, then you and Bucky are going to be separated. This is the last time I’m ironing your clothes,” she told him with a wave of her finger. Steve blushed, but unbuttoned his shirt and gave it to Winifred, leaving him in his wife beater and slacks. “Go finish getting ready.” Steve nodded and rushed back into the bathroom to fix his hair back. 

 

Bucky laughed when Steve entered the bathroom again. “Shut up, jerk. It’s all your fault,” Steve grumbled. 

 

“ _ My _ fault?” Bucky gasped. “If I do recall,  _ you _ , my friend, started this.” Steve flicked him off, pushing Bucky out the way to wash off the shaving cream. “Be glad you don’t have to shave yet. This sucks,” Bucky whined as he resumed shaving.

 

“But you look great, with or without stubble,” Steve whispered. He quickly reached up to kiss Bucky’s cheek (the part that wasn’t covered in shaving cream. . . they didn’t need another episode) and helped him smooth down his hair. 

 

“Thanks, baby,” Bucky whispered. 

 

They both got ready quietly, sharing smiles and secret kisses whenever they could. When they walked out the bathroom, all they needed to do was get their shirts, suspenders, and ties and then they’d be ready. “Here you go, boys. Pressed and ready to go,” Winifred said quietly. She handed them both their shirts and Steve his tie, a sad smile on her face. 

 

“Ma, don’t start,” Bucky warned as he buttoned up his shirt. “You’ll have plenty of time to cry and coo with Sarah after the ceremony.” Winifred hit his bicep, turning to tie Steve’s tie despite knowing he knew very well how to. 

 

“I don’t care. I’ve waited years to watch you two graduate and now I get to see you both graduate one the same day. You don’t get to give me permission to cry or not.” She pointed Bucky in the chest, her mouth in a tight line to help stop herself from crying already. 

 

Bucky held up his hands in defense, a smirk on his face. Steve rolled his eyes and clipped his suspenders on. Bucky did the same and grabbed his tie from the doorknob on his bedroom door. “We’ve gotta go to the school to practice the ceremony and get our gowns, but we’ll see you there.” Bucky slid on his dress shoes and headed for the door. 

 

“Good luck, boys. We’ll meet after the ceremony,” Winifred said as she kissed both of their cheeks. 

 

Steve and Bucky walked down the street, both of them anxious and giddy. “It’s hard to believe that we’re done with school,” Steve mumbled.

 

“Yeah.” Bucky sighed. They walked on, their feet in sync every other step as they tried to match their strides. But the usual comfortable silence soon turned jittery as their anxiety spiked. “Walk ahead of me,” Bucky said finally said, stopping as Steve continued. 

 

“Why?” Steve asked, pausing. 

 

“Need a smoke,” Bucky said. He wouldn’t meet Steve’s eye as he lit up a cigarette. “Don’t want you to have an attack,” he said a little louder. Steve nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets, head down as he walked. 

 

They had never talked about it, but it wasn’t a secret. Bucky smokes, just not around Steve. It wasn’t a secret, but Bucky didn’t like the fact he couldn’t give up this little habit of his. So he didn’t say anything and tried to keep the taste and smell off him. 

 

But honestly? Steve thought it was the hottest thing ever. Whenever he tasted the cigarettes on Bucky’s lips or smelled the smoke lingering on his collar, it always made him want more. 

 

Either way, Steve walked ahead of him until Bucky finished. By then, they were at the school. “You alright?” Steve asked him quietly, bumping hips. 

 

“Yeah, just a little nervous I guess,” Bucky mumbled.

 

“It’s okay. We’re gonna be fine.” 

 

Two hours later, the boys were in line with the rest of their class getting rest to walk into the gym. Bucky turned his head around, looking behind him to try and see Steve. Steve stood on his toes and gave Bucky a cheesy smile, making sure he saw him. Bucky grinned, his eyes lingering for a moment before he turned back around in time to walk forward. 

 

They all sat down, and then a couple of people spoke. Bucky wasn’t paying much attention, his feet bouncing as he waited for his name to be called. Their principal cleared his throat and announced, “Now, we’ll start giving the Class of ‘36 their diplomas.” His row stood and they walked along to the stage. “Dorothy Adams,” she walked across, “Cynthia Bailey,” she walked walked across, and then “James Barnes.” Bucky took a deep breath as his family and Steve cheered and walked across the stage. He shook the man’s hand and took the scroll, smiling out into the audience. He was done. He walked back down the stage and sat beside Cynthia as his friend Charles got his diploma. 

 

“Adeline Ermacora. . .Rida Hirsch. . .Noah Jans. . .Ralph McCaig. . .Melissa Pettigrew. . .Nolan Ramakers,” the principal droned on. Student after student walked across the stage, officially graduating from high school. 

 

Steve stood in line, getting closer and closer to the stage. “Steven Rogers,” the principal announced and Steve walked up the stairs. He had one foot on the stage when he felt a hand grab his other and down he went. Steve face planted, earning a gasp from the audience before the snickers started to bubble from his classmates. 

 

With his face bright red and his eyes latched onto Bucky’s, he got back up on his feet. He smoothed out his gown and righted his hat before he marched to the principal. “There ya go, Rogers!” Bucky’s voice erupted from the crowd and Steve beamed. His mom and the Barnes’ family cheered, and soon the audience applauded as he kept going. 

 

The principal gave him a tight lipped smile and handed him the scroll and shook his head. “Congratulations,” he whispered. Steve nodded and mumbled a thank you as he started off the stage.  

 

Soon the ceremony was over and everyone was tossing their caps. Bucky ran over to Steve, picking him up and swinging him around. “We did it, Stevie!” He let him down, trying to make everything they did look platonic. 

 

“We did, didn’t we?” Steve laughed, his face red. 

 

“You did great, by the way. I’m real proud you didn’t let that jackass ruin your moment. Believe me, if Ma and Pops weren’t here,” Bucky’s jaw clenched as he took a deep breath.

 

Steve hugged him, “Thanks Buck.” 

 

Bucky wrapped his arms around the boy and squeezed as tight as possible. “Always, kid.” They separated and walked around to meet with their families.

 

“I am so proud of you two!” Sarah said as she rushed to the two boys. She pulled Steve into her arms, hugging him as tight as possible, before she moved one arm to pull Bucky down to hug her as well. “Are you okay, Steve? You fell pretty hard,” she whispered as she let them go a little. 

 

“Scraped my knee, I think. But I’m good.” Steve smiled up at her, a soft blush still on his cheeks. Sarah held his face in her hands, releasing Bucky completely-  just in time. 

 

Winifred came over and pulled Bucky into her arms, tears spilling over her cheeks. “Ma,” Bucky groaned playfully as he hugged her back. 

 

“Don’t ‘ _ Ma _ ’ me,” she cried, “Let me have this moment.” Bucky laughed as they swayed a little, his mother crying into his chest. 

 

And then the two mothers switched, taking the other boy into their arms. Winifred cried into Steve’s shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her (just barely having his fingers touch - he had short arms) warmly. Sarah had Bucky at arms length, whispering something to him about how she was so proud and thankful of him. 

 

The families went back to the Barnes’ place, where they had a huge dinner and told stories of the two graduates from times long forgotten. It was nice and one of Steve’s favorite moments, especially watching as Bucky looked so happy and at peace. 

 

He didn’t even care what happened next. . . Just as long as he could make Bucky look that happy all the time. Or at least most of it. 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Bucky grinned as he rolled over to see Steve’s sleeping face. He nudged his knee against Steve’s leg gently, his right hand moving to brush Steve’s bangs away from his eyes. “Stevie, time to wake up punk.” Steve squirmed, stuck between leaning into Bucky’s touch or into their pillow. He chose the pillow. Bucky chuckled, a breathy sound that Steve couldn’t help but smile at. “C’mon, we gotta get to work.”

 

“Do we have to?” Steve whined, one eye peeling open to blink up at Bucky. 

 

“If you wanna get out of your Ma’s place, then yeah we gotta.” Bucky sat up and leaned over Steve, moving to barricade Steve between his elbows. “Believe me, darlin’, I’d love to sit here and devour that perfect face of yours,” Bucky whispered. Steve’s breath hitched as Bucky leaned down to bump their noses together. He was starting to breath heavy, Bucky could feel it against his chin as it fell from Steve’s open lips. “But we’re broke and I don’t like worrying ‘bout scarring your Ma one morning with what I wanna do to you,” Bucky’s voice was deep and hoarse. Steve wasn’t the only one waking up now. . .

 

“Your breath stinks,” Steve squeaked. 

 

Bucky glared at him. “You always ruin the moment.” 

 

“You’re the one who started it.” 

 

“So?”

  
“Aren’t you the one who wants to get up and go?” 

 

Bucky groaned and got up, grabbing his pajama bottoms and his work uniform. He’d gotten a job at a construction site in Queens, it wasn’t the best but he could use his hands rather than his brain. He liked that aspect and the pay wasn’t awful. “I’m gonna take a shower,” he grumbled as he walked out the room. 

 

Steve’s laugh echoed throughout the apartment.

 

Later that night, Bucky was jogging up the steps into the hospital to pick up Steve. Since they graduated, Steve’s taken a job as an assistant to some of the nurses. He goes around and helps cheer up some of the kids, teaching them how to draw and playing games. It was a job specially made for him by the hospital’s director, especially after seeing how well the kids took to Steve whenever he’d volunteer. Least he could do was pay the kid. 

 

“Hi Bucky,” a nurse giggled as he walked by. Bucky put on his most charming smile and winked, repeating his actions with every nurse he passed. He had an image to maintain. He marched up the stairs until he reached the children’s floor, where Sarah also happened to work on Tuesdays and whenever she wasn’t needed in the tuberculosis wing. 

 

“What a lovely surprise!” Sarah cheered as she set down her glasses. His flirtatious charming smile turned into a genuine grin as he leaned against the desk. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

 

“Came to pick up Stevie, I got this,” Bucky pulled out an envelope from his jacket pocket, “today and I think it may be time to tell him.” Sarah’s face lit up, her eyes bright and her laughter lines on full display. “He with a patient or filing?” 

“With a patient.” Sarah waved him off, pointing in the direction Steve was at. Bucky leaned over and kissed her cheek before he sauntered off to find his boyfriend. 

 

Steve was sitting at the foot of the hospital bed, his legs crossed and his head resting on the palm of his hand, elbow balancing on his knobby knee. Bucky leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and his foot against the frame with his ankles crossed, just watching with an amused smile. Steve had a couple of cards in his hand and his face was contorted into pure concentration, like when he draws or sketches Bucky and doesn’t care for once that he’s watching him. “Got a three?” He asked, his voice quiet and husky.

 

“Nope, go fish,” a soft, sweet voice replied. Bucky glanced around the room, noticing the line of dolls and teddy bears on a little shelf, along with all sorts of bows and ribbons; definitely a little girl’s room. Steve sighed and snapped his fingers. He reached forward and grabbed a card, before mumbling something Bucky couldn’t hear. “Gotta four?” 

 

Steve paused, glancing between his cards and the little girl for a moment before his face cracked into a smile. “You’re killin’ me, Darla.” A giggle erupted from the little girl as she happily took his card. “Still your turn,” he reminded her.

 

“Gotta king?” Steve groaned again and handed her another. “I win!” She cheered. Steve laughed and set down the cards, grabbing the rest and shuffling them real quick. “Can we play again?” 

 

“I don’t know, you’ve beat me the last three times. I think you’re cheating.” Steve raised one thick eyebrow, his lips pursed. Bucky bit his lip and desperately tried to keep the hearts out of his eyes. 

 

“I’m not cheating!” Darla squealed, before going into a coughing fit. Steve turned to grab a glass of water and - finally - noticed Bucky standing there. He handed the little girl her water, whispering something to her softly. “Can I meet him?” Steve moved to get off the bed and walked toward Bucky.

 

“Can she?” Bucky smiled and nodded, walking further into the room. Sitting up in the bed was a little girl with dark brown pigtails tied up in blue ribbon, she had a button nose and big green eyes and a big, smile dotted with missing teeth. She was a pretty little girl, but despite her natural beauty, whatever illness she had had started to take a toll on her body. She was tiny, tinier than Steve when he was her age (9? 10?) and a lot paler, with a hint of green. Her arms were dotted in bruises, and freckles, from where the IVs poked and prodded her. Either way, Bucky liked her instantly. “Darla, this is my good friend Bucky. Bucky, this is my good friend Darla,” Steve introduced. 

 

“Nice to meet you, Darla,” Bucky said. He stuck out a hand and bowed dramatically, his bent form the same height as the hospital bed. She giggled and set her hand delicately in his, to which Bucky kissed gently making her blush as bad as Steve. 

 

“Hi,” she giggled. 

 

Bucky stood up and winked at Steve, who rolled his eyes. “What are you two up to?”

 

“Steve was teaching me to play ‘Go Fish’ and I beat him! Three times!” She held up three fingers and laughed as Steve pouted. Bucky feigned amused and shocked at the same time. 

 

“That’s impressive, since Stevie’s the best ‘Go Fish’ player I know.” Steve pushed Bucky playfully, mouthing something he didn’t catch to Darla. Darla laughed and it was almost as cute as when Steve laughs. . .almost. “But, Darla, do you mind if I take Steve for the night?”

 

Darla whined, her bottom lip jutting out just a little. “But we were havin’ a good time!” 

 

Steve sighed and sat beside her. “We were and tomorrow, when I come to visit, we can play some more if you’re up for it?” She nodded, but she didn’t look so happy. “Get some rest.” He tucked her in and brought her glass of water closer. Steve handed her a teddy bear before he took Bucky by the arm, dragging him out of the room. 

 

“She’s a sweet kid,” Bucky whispered as they walked back down the hall.

 

“Yeah, one of the more upbeat kids here. Not that I blame them,” Steve shrugged, “I always hated being in a hospital.” 

 

“You should know, you were constantly here.” Steve flicked him off, a playful glare directed towards him. “Anyways, you off yet?” 

 

Steve checked the time on Bucky’s watch. “Yup, just gotta clock out and grab my stuff.” Bucky waited for Steve to do just that, making small talk with Sarah while he waited. 

 

“You tell him yet?” She whispered. 

 

“Nope,” Bucky mumbled just as Steve came bopping back in the room. 

 

“Ready?” Bucky nodded and Steve hugged his mother, mumbling something about seeing her later. When he was close enough, Bucky slung an arm around Steve’s shoulders and gave him a huge grin. They bumbled along, making their way down to the street. “Where we goin’?” Steve asked, an eyebrow cocked. 

 

Bucky let his arm fall and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Figured we could just walk around for a bit, enjoy the summer breeze, before we gotta go home and pretend we’re just best friends ‘round your ma.” He wanted nothing more than to grab Steve’s hand, the one swinging from his scrawny arms between them, brushing his pants leg whenever they got close. 

 

Steve smiled at that, a shy nod giving his consent. He didn’t even realize where Bucky was taking them until they were on the block. “Aw, Buck,” Steve whined as he stopped. Bucky turned and made sure his face looked curious instead of amused. He knew good and well why Steve didn’t want to go down this street. “Can we just go home? ‘M not feelin’ too good.” Steve’s face looked uncomfortable, but his eyes showed just a hue of sadness that broke Bucky’s heart. 

 

“Naw, Stevie,” Bucky cooed, “you know there’s a shortcut down this street.” Steve shook his head and turned back around to leave the way they came. Bucky grabbed his waist and slung him (carefully) over his shoulder. “You are getting over this right now. It’s kinda sad how you can’t even walk down a damn street without crying over a school.” 

 

That’s right. The street they had turned on, while it did get them closer to their block, had Steve’s dream school smack dab in the middle of it. Steve could barely pass it, much less walk down it, without getting upset. He wanted desperately to go, but the simple truth crushed it. They couldn’t afford it. So he never even thought to ask. 

 

“Bucky, please. I’ll do your laundry for a month, just let me go,” Steve pleaded. He tried to squirm his way out, using all his strength to get away. Bucky’s grip tightened as he laughed to himself. “Buck, this is ridiculous. Put me down. We’re grown men, please just let me go.” 

 

Eventually, Bucky did. 

 

Steve pouted, his arms crossed and his bottom lip jutted out as he glared up at Bucky. The older man shrugged, matching his own glare playfully. Steve rolled his eyes, properly angry now, and turned to storm off. Bucky reacted quickly, grabbing Steve’s hand and spinning him around to face the school. “What the h-”

 

“No,” Bucky stated firmly. His big hands covered Steve’s little shoulders, keeping him in place. “You’re not gonna say a damn word for three minutes while I tell you what I need to say, okay?” Steve nodded, still pouting. Bucky sighed and shook his head. He couldn’t help but smile a little, though. Steve was always defiant and didn’t mind picking a fight here and there, ready to take a stand. He was always reluctant to listen to orders, even when his mom or Bucky gave them. 

 

Bucky turned to face Steve, so the school was behind him, and knelt down a little. He reached into his work jacket, pulling out a folded letter. “You’re gonna be pissed. I know this. But I work with the Dean’s husband and told him all about you, then he told his wife. She was wanted to see your portfolio and after she explained what that was, I took some of your sketches.” Steve’s eyes widened, his lips pressed into a thin line. Bucky held up his hands, a small smile on his face. “Stevie, she loved them. She really, really,  _ really _ loved them. She loved them so much that she told me to get you to apply. But I knew you’d never apply, so,” he held up the letter, “I applied for you?” He didn’t mean for it to be a question, but with how angry Steve can get. . . Bucky honestly didn’t know how the news would settle with him. 

 

Steve stumbled over his words for a second, before he finally squeaked out a meek, “You did what, now?” Bucky blushed and repeated himself with a big, goofy grin. Steve gasped and pointed to the letter. “Is that the. . ?”

 

“Hand delivered by her husband,” Bucky mumbled. “Haven’t gotten a chance to look at it, but your Ma thinks it’s positive. I think so, too. Everyone does, ‘specially Becky. I wanted to read it, so I can just tell you. But then I thought you’d like the honors of reading it. So-” Steve snatched the letter out of Bucky’s hand, unfolding it so he could skim over the neat typing. “What’s it say?” Bucky asked, bottom lip between his teeth. Steve looked up at him, tears brimming his big blue eyes and his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Well?”

 

Steve handed it to him, his voice distant as he mumbled, “I’m in. I got in. Free ride. Won’t cost us much, ‘cept for the supplies.” Bucky cheered, picking Steve up and spinning him around, not even caring if people saw them. They were both laughing with big ol’ grins on their faces and their eyes watery with relief. 

 

“So proud of you, baby boy,” Bucky whispered, kissing his cheek discreetly. “My baby’s gonna be the best damn artist Brooklyn’s ever seen!” 

 

Steve giggled and hugged Bucky tight. “Thank you. I’m pissed, but so happy. Thank you so much, James,” Steve whispered.

 

Bucky pulled away, a smirk on his face as he held Steve at arm’s length. “Oh, you must be pretty damn serious if  _ you’re _ calling me  _ James _ .” Steve rolled his eyes and giggled again. “C’mon, my little artist. We gotta tell your ma.” 

 

Steve let Bucky drag him home, his eyes lingering on his new school as they walked. Maybe his future wouldn’t be too bad. 

 

He couldn’t help but think of him and Bucky and where they’d end up, as they walked home. They’d never have kids, it was that simple. Unless they decided to get see each other privately and just be with women, but they both knew that’d be impossible. They’d drift apart or fall in love with their wives, because they’d never get married. They’d never be allowed on a date, not a true, romantic date like the ones they’d be able to take with a girl. 

 

But he knew they were resilient. They’d figure something out, that’s for sure.  

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Steve’s world was crashing, crumbling down around him. He was frozen in his place, looking as vulnerable as he felt. This can’t be real. . .

 

Everything was fine that morning. What happened? How did this all happen so quickly? 

Steve and Bucky had woken up that morning on their own. They did their usual morning routine, getting ready for the day and sharing lazy kisses whenever they passed. They both had the day off, as did Sarah and the Barnes’ family, and they had all planned on going to the park for the day. 

 

Until Steve walked into the kitchen to see his mother looking like a ghost of herself. “Ma, you okay?” He took a step towards her, ready to be her nurse like she’s been for him all these years. She held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. 

 

“Stevie, sweetheart. Go get Bucky, please?” He tried to protest, but then she was coughing and there was blood and he was a scared child all over again. 

 

“Bucky!” He hollered, scrambling to get his boyfriend. 

 

Bucky cursed, nicking himself as he shaved off his stubble. “Goddammit, Steve,” he mumbled. He peeked his head out the door, half of it still covered in shaving cream, trying to glare at the flustered blonde. “The hell’s your problem?” 

 

Steve was shaking, his eyes watering, as he stumbled over his words. “It’s Ma, she’s. . .she’s sick, B-Bucky. She’s coughing up,” Steve hiccuped, “blood and she w-w-won’t let me help.” Bucky barely caught Steve in time before he fell, his arms grabbing ahold of Steve. 

 

He grabbed a towel and wiped his face off before he looked down at the crying blonde. “Listen to me Stevie,” he whispered sternly in the boy’s ear, “I’m gonna go check on your ma, okay? You’re gonna go sit in the living room, dry those tears, and just relax. I’m gonna take care of this. Don’t worry, baby doll. I’ve got this. Bucky’s got this.” He helped Steve stand, guiding him into the living room before he rushed into the kitchen to see a sickly looking Sarah. 

 

“Morning, Bucky,” she wheezed. 

 

“Everything okay?” Bucky asked, pulling out the chair beside her’s. “Steve said you were sick?” She nodded weakly. He took her right hand in both of his, noticing just how cold she was and how severe she was shaking. “What’s goin’ on? You’re scaring me and Steve, just let us help you.” 

 

She squeezed his hand for a moment, looking up at him with clouded eyes. “James, I think I caught something from the hospital. I’m going to need to go in soon,” she whispered. Bucky nodded, his face determined to hide all his fear and nerves for Steve’s sake. “Whatever this is, I don’t want Steve to catch it. His immune system isn’t strong enough. If this is what I think it is, he won’t be able to shake it off. I can’t watch him die, James. I’ll die before he gets this,” she rasped. 

 

Bucky had tears in his eyes, couldn’t help it. “Okay,” he squeaked. “Tell me what to do, I’ll do it.” She went into another coughing fit as Steve watched from the couch, far enough away not to hear her soft words, but close enough to watch the horror unfold before him. Bucky nodded, as if he was trying to convince himself of something, and turned to look at Steve with watery eyes. “Go get my Pops, Stevie. Tell ‘im we need to borrow his truck. Gotta get her to the hospital.” 

 

Steve scrambled up the stairs, not bothering to wipe away his tears or knock on the door to the Barnes’ apartment. They were all seated around the table, everyone but Rebecca who’d been at a friend’s house, eating breakfast without a care in the world. “Steve, what’s wrong?” Winifred asked, standing from her seat and rushing to comfort the small blonde. 

 

“Ma,” he hiccuped, “She’s sick and B-Bucky’s gonna take her to the hospital. N-Needs to borrow y-your truck.” He cried a little in Winifred’s shoulder as he looked up at George. If the situation wasn’t serious, Steve could have taken a moment to appreciate how much Bucky looked like his father. From his sharp jaw and cleft chin to his thick hair and bushy eyebrows, Bucky, Eugene, and George could have been brothers, especially with their height. All of them towered over Steve’s measly 5’4” body with big, cheshire grins.

 

“I’ll go get it started,” George announced, already grabbing his coat and boats. Winifred held Steve tighter, whispering sweet nothings in his ear as he cried. She walked him back down to his apartment, her arms wrapped around his thin frame. 

 

“Steve? Need you to stay out there, alright pal?” Bucky called. 

 

Winifred held Steve as Bucky carried Sarah down to the Barnes’ truck. “C‘mon, you can ride in the back with Bucky.” Winifred held Steve’s shaking hand and walked him down the stairs as George and Bucky loaded Sarah into the truck. “I’ll ride in the cab,” she told Bucky, climbing in beside her best friend. “You take care of Steve,” she whispered to her son. 

 

Bucky spun around to see Steve standing on the sidewalk with big, scared eyes. His heart shattered with each step, knowing he couldn’t comfort his friend in the open like this. He wouldn’t be able to until they were locked in Steve’s bedroom. “Stevie,” he whispered, keeping a foot of distance between them like he always did when around his father. 

 

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, not trusting himself to speak or even glance at Bucky’s knowing eyes. Bucky nodded, eyes falling to the ground before he moved to open the hatch on the back of the truck. He climbed in and waited for Steve. The blonde wiped furiously at his eyes and climbed in, scraping his knee on the side of the truck as he did so. Bucky sighed and closed the hatch, hitting the side to let his father know they were good. 

 

The boys settled in the bed of the truck, sitting across from each other with their feet slotted between each other’s like always. “Your skin’s like paper, Stevie,” Bucky whispered as he grabbed the first aid kit his dad had in the back. Steve shrugged, his teeth worrying into his bottom lip. He let Bucky clean his knee, making sure the fabrics of his pants didn’t make their way in. “I could be a doctor from hangin’ with you. Always cleanin’ somethin’ up,” he mumbled. 

 

“Should be my Ma doin’ this,” Steve mumbled. He watched with hollow eyes as Bucky put a bandaid on the wound and kissed it gently when he was sure their parents weren’t watching. 

 

“I know, baby,” Bucky whispered as he moved to sit beside Steve. “She’ll be back to fixin’ up your scraped knees and busted lips in no time. I promise.” 

 

They both knew it was an empty promise, made only in the hopes of making Steve feel better. 

 

Sarah ended up in the hospital for a week with tuberculosis. They wouldn’t let Steve in at all. He sat there, in the chair in the waiting room. Bucky would go to work, come by and make sure Steve ate and brought a change of clothes for him. They wouldn’t let him back either. 

 

It was the eighth night that a doctor finally let Steve back. They put a mask on him and told him to be careful and conscious of his actions. They reminded him TB was contagious and with his size and ailments, it’d take a miracle for him to come back from it. 

 

Bucky walked him back to the room, but he stayed in the hall and watched from the doorway. Steve walked into the room slowly, not sure if his mother, his poor sickly mother, was awake or not. “Stevie?” she whispered. 

 

“Yeah, Ma, it’s me,” he said softly from behind the paper mask. “I miss you, Ma. How ya doing?” 

 

“I’m fighting, Stevie. Always fighting. You been taking care of yourself, right? They said you’ve been waiting for me.” Her voice was raspy and hoarse and her skin, once youthful, looked sickly pale. Her body looked thin and frail, as if in the week she’d been in here she’d aged by decades. It was as if the weight fell off her already small frame.

 

“Couldn’t go home. You never let me stay by myself when I was sick. Didn’t want the same for you.” He took her thin, shaking hand. “You cold? Need another blanket?” 

 

She gave him a weak smile. “No, sweetie. The chill won’t go away. It’s too deep in my bones.” Sarah looked at Steve, her eyes shimmering in pride and hope. “Stevie, I didn’t want you in here. Not ‘cause I don’t want to see my sweet, precious baby boy, but because I don’t want you ending up like this.”

 

“Ma, it was inevitable.” Steve tried to give her a smile through the mask. 

 

She swatted his arm weakly, a playful glare taking a hold of her eyes. “Don’t you talk like that. You’re a Rogers with the blood of a McRiley,” she started, “you’re a fighter. You always have been. I remember,” her voice turned reminiscent and her smile reached her eyes, “when you were little. The first fight you ever got into, before your size was visibly smaller than all the other children, was when another boy, I think his name was Billy. You remember him? His mother used to be in my church choir.” She waited until Steve nodded. “I don’t know if you remember the fight, but I do. It was one of the cutest things I ever saw you do, not that I condone your trouble making. Billy was teasing one of the little girls, another one of the choir ladies’ kids, about her dolls. He snatched it right out her hands and ripped the doll in half, straight down the middle. Even with all of us singing, we still heard that rip from across the room. That’s when I saw you, in your little shorts that showed your already knobby knees. You marched yourself over to Billy and the little girl, Eliza I think her name was, and you pushed Billy back with all your strength. Oh Stevie, you had the cutest little look on your face. Your nose scrunched up and your little eyebrows furrowed and you got all red.” she turned away and coughed a little. Steve reached back and handed her a glass of water, his hand shaking slightly. She gave him a thankful smile before taking a few short sips. “I don’t remember what you said. I just know Billy apologized to Eliza and tried to put the doll back together. One of the cutest things you’ve ever done.”

 

Steve blushed, but he didn’t let his eyes fall from his mother’s gaze. “I’m sorry I always caused trouble,” he mumbled. 

 

Sarah pressed a hand against his cheek, her thumb wiping away a stray tear. “Don’t you ever apologize for sticking up for what’s right. That’s all you’ve ever done and I’ll fix a hundred scraped knees, black eyes, and nose bleeds for you as long as you felt like you did the right thing. I’m in your corner, Stevie. No matter what.” She coughed again, her whole body shaking with the effort. 

 

“I know, Ma. You’re the best Ma a kid could ask for.” He kissed the back of her hand, lingering a moment as he watched the light leave her eyes just a bit. 

 

“Steven, I’m afraid this might be my last fight,” she whispered. He shook his head, sobs already ready to rip through him. “Don’t cry, baby. This is what I wanted. I always hated thinking I’d have to watch you die, I’d much rather be the first to go. You’ve got a whole life ahead of you, you don’t need to worry about your mother. I know that’s why you and Bucky still live with us and the Barnes. You both are ready and you know I’ve got a whole bunch saved for you, but you stay. You’re scared, which is okay. Don’t be afraid to feel scared.” She squeezed his hand. 

 

“Don’t talk like that Ma. You aren’t going anywhere. You’re going to be okay.” Steve started to ramble, shaking his head and holding on to her hand with all he could. 

 

Sarah sighed sadly, her own tears spilling over her hollowing cheeks. “Steve. I don’t think so. I’m trying, because God knows how much I want to see you live your life. I just think this might be it.” She let his hand go, moving to sit up a little. Steve helped her adjust her pillow and get settled, giving her the glass of water again. 

 

She glanced towards the door, seeing a teary eyed Bucky standing in the doorway, leaning against it as if he were a ladder.  _ Tall as he is, he could be _ , she thought. “James, come in here,” she called softly. He pushed himself off and walked into the small room quietly, hands in his pockets. She held out a hand, which he took and squeezed gently. “I’m glad you’re here, James.” 

 

“Why’s that, Mrs. Rogers?” He asked quietly, taking a seat in the chair on her left. Steve was sitting on her bed on her left side. 

 

She glared playfully. “You never could call me Sarah or Ma like I asked you to, could you?” He shook his head with a bashful smile. Her gaze turned loving, as if she were looking at Steve. “I’m glad you’re here because it’s nice to see both my boys. Although,” she glanced at Steve suspiciously, “I don’t suppose I’ll ever get the truth, now will I?”

 

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed as he sniffled. “Ma, what’re you talking about?” 

 

She raised an eyebrow and glanced back at Bucky. Then back to him. Then back to Bucky. “Oh, don’t act like I don’t know! I’ve known since you boys were ten and eleven that there was something special about your friendship.” Bucky and Steve shared a glance, both of their faces sharing a similar look of fear, the same one they always wore when they got caught doing something mischievous. “You boys finally ready to tell me the truth? I promise I won’t hate you. I just want you both happy.”

 

Steve felt like crying. Bucky let out a breath of relief, his whole body releasing the tension he didn’t even realize he had. “Steve,” Bucky said softly. The blonde looked up, bottom lip quivering. Their eyes held a silent conversation, both still a bit shaken up. 

 

Then a look of determination settled on Steve’s face and the boy took a deep breath. He spoke softly, “Ma,” Sarah looked at him expectantly, “I’d like to formally introduce you to. . .my boyfriend, James.” Steve took Bucky’s free hand in his, holding on to it with a death grip as he awaited his mother’s reaction.

 

“Well, James,” Sarah smiled, “it’s lovely to finally meet the boy leaving those God awful hickeys on my son’s neck.” Both boys blushed furiously, not meeting her gaze with bashful smiles. She pulled them both in close, kissing both of their foreheads. “I’m just glad you make each other happy.” 

 

They all sat there for a moment, before Sarah sighed and asked Steve to talk to Bucky alone. Steve was reluctant, but he nodded and took Bucky’s place in the doorway. “What is it, Mrs. Rogers?” 

 

Sarah sighed. “For once, Bucky, please call me Sarah or Ma. Please? It’s all I’ve wanted for twelve years.” 

 

Bucky grinned and nodded. “I’m sorry. What is it, Sarah or Ma?” She swatted his arm and rolled her eyes.  _ That’s where Steve gets it _ , he thought. 

 

“Don’t be a smart ass, Bucky.” Bucky laughed quietly and apologized. Then Sarah’s face grew tired and weak, as if she were starting to give up. “I’m not making it out of this room alive, Bucky. We all know that. I’m too far gone too quickly and medicine isn’t advanced enough to stop it. And don’t even try to convince me otherwise. I’ve been through hell and back dealing with your boyfriend, I know when the fight’s over. I’m not done just yet, but I’m getting there.” She patted his hand that laid in her’s. “I want you to promise me something. Okay?” 

 

Bucky nodded. “Anything.” 

 

“Take care of him. Don’t let him be his recklessly stupid self. He’s smart and had a good set of morals, but he let’s the need to make things right out way his common sense.” Bucky nodded, completely agreeing. “He needs a good man like you to watch out for him. To stop him from killing himself. I know you’ll take care of my baby. You already have been, sometimes more than I have. You know him better than anyone. He needs you.” Bucky was crying at this point. “And you need him. Promise me, even if you don’t stay together, to stay best friends. Your friendship should come first before your relationship. That’s how Joseph and I were.” She took a shaky breath and motioned for him to come closer. She pressed a kiss to his forehead and ran her fingers through his hair. “Bucky, I love you as much as I love Steve. You take care of yourself, too. Don’t let Steve guide you down a path that’ll get you both killed.”

 

“Yes ma’am.” Bucky hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek. “I’ll do my best.” She gave him a grateful smile and motioned for Steve to come back.

 

“My love,” Sarah took Steve’s face in her hands, “I love you with all my heart. You’re so much like your father and I, it’s crazy. I’ve loved every second of watching you grow up, but it looks like my job is done. Now, you and Bucky are going to go home and you are going to sleep in your own bed and shower and eat a meal. No more sleeping in the waiting room. You understand?” Steve nodded. “Okay. Listen to me for one more second, okay?” He nodded again. “Never forget your coat and always wear an extra pair of socks in the winters, don’t need you getting sick on Bucky’s watch. Don’t go a day without eating if you can help it. And always have a some cash saved, at least twenty dollars, for emergencies. Don’t let yourself go without, but also don’t spend your money like you’re Jay Gatsby.” The boys shared a look at that. “Always be a gentleman, both of you, and never let your guest sit down without offering them something to drink or snack on. Make sure your house is always clean, because the best guest are the ones come unexpectedly.” She glanced at Bucky, who beamed. “Always be prepared for the worst, but hope for the best. Look out for one another. And don’t let anyone tell you what to do.” She turned away from them the best she could and coughed. Steve backed up a little. 

 

“Ma, do you want us to go so you can rest?” She nodded, but didn’t let them get up. Sarah finished her coughing fit and sighed. 

 

“I love you both so much.” She kissed both of their cheeks. 

 

“I love you, too Ma.” Steve whispered. 

 

“We both do,” Bucky added.

 

“Go, get some sleep. You both look exhausted and like you need a good meal. I love you.” She shooed them away, a small, weak smile on her pale face. 

 

“Night, Ma. Sleep well. Love you too,” Steve kissed her head and Bucky did the same before guiding Steve out the hospital. 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, Steve and Bucky were sleeping peacefully in Steve’s bed. Bucky was wrapped around Steve, protecting him from the outside world. Steve woke up first, simply enjoying the feel of Bucky’s bare arm draped over his thin waist and the way his warm breath tickled his neck. He could fall back asleep with how comfortable this is. 

 

At least he could have before their alarm rang through the bedroom. Bucky groaned, nuzzling his face in the crook of Steve’s neck. “I don’t wanna go to work,” he grumbled, his voice still thick from sleep. 

 

“Yeah, but you need to. We gotta move out soon. Now that Ma knows about us, it’s gonna be seriously awkward.” Bucky giggled and kissed at Steve’s neck. “How’d she find out anyway?”

 

Bucky shrugged and moved to kiss Steve’s nose. “Dunno. She mentioned the hickeys, so maybe she figured you’re too ugly to get a girl so you had to settle for me.” Steve rolled his eyes and pushed Bucky slightly, but Bucky had filled out quite a bit from his job at the construction company. “Nah, you know I’m playin’, doll. Can’t even joke about you bein’ ugly. Too damn gorgeous,” Bucky whispered before stealing a kiss, morning breath be damned. 

 

“I love you,” Steve whispered against his lips. “Thank you for being here for me.”

 

“I love you, too, baby.” Bucky pecked Steve’s lips again as the phone started to ring. “I’ll get it. Wanna start breakfast for me?” Bucky gave him a cheesy grin until Steve nodded and the two rolled out of bed. 

 

Bucky grabbed the phone off the hook on the last ring as Steve got out a couple of eggs for the both of them. “Hello, Rogers Residence,” Bucky said confidently, leaning against the doorframe. Steve watched him out the corner of his eye, a small smile on his face. Until Bucky’s face fell and he turned away from him and spoke in a hushed tone. “Um, thank you for calling us. We’ll be there shortly to start handling things. Thank you,” Bucky mumbled as he hung the phone up, only to pick it back up. He dialed something quickly and gave Steve a small, reassuring smile.

 

“Everything okay?” 

 

Bucky didn’t respond, instead going on with his conversation. “Yeah boss man I can’t make it today. Something’s come up and I need to be here for my family. Thanks for understanding.” There was a pause and Steve watched with his bottom lip between his teeth. “You two. Bye.” Bucky hung the phone up and sighed, refusing to look at Steve.

 

“Buck, what’s goin’ on?” Steve asked, walking over cautiously. He wrapped his arms around his middle, peering up over his shoulder on his tip toes. Bucky sighed and turned around, taking Steve in his arms. He lifted him up onto the counter, his expression serious and a little sad. “You’re scarin’ me, Buck,” Steve whispered.

 

Bucky took his hands, kissing each knuckle before looking up at him with tears brimming his grey-blue eyes. “Stevie, baby, the hospital called-” Steve shook his head, a series of ‘no’s spilling out of his quivering lips, “your Ma’s passed. She went in her sleep, it was peaceful. Said she had a small smile on her face and everything.” Bucky’s tears fell as Steve’s sobs cut through the air. The blonde shook his head, refusing to believe it. 

 

“No, this can’t be happening,” he whispered, falling into Bucky’s embrace. Bucky held him tight, crying into his hair. “No, t-tell me it ain’t true,” he pleaded.

 

“Baby, I wish it wasn’t. God, I really do wish I could change it.”

 

They spent the rest of the morning crying into each other’s arms, holding each other for dear life until the need to eat and do basic human functions became too much. “Get dressed, doll. Then we can go see your Ma, yeah?” 

 

The next three days, Steve was either sobbing into his pillows or Bucky (same difference) and drawing his mother over and over and over again. Bucky did what he could when he didn’t have to work and Winifred stayed with throughout the day, making him eat and move around a little. Neither of them would let him fall apart completely. Not without them there. 

 

It was the morning of the funeral when all his tears were dried up. Bucky helped him get dressed before he left the apartment to get dressed himself. Then he and Bucky walked to the big church her service was being held in, where the congregation apologized for his loss and asked how he was doing. 

 

The Barnes sat in the front row with him. Winifred, Becky, and Daisy were blotting at their eyes and sniffling. Eugene and George were trying their best to be stone-faced, and Bucky made sure Steve was pressed against him occasionally wrapping an arm around his shoulder. They were all he had now. . .

 

His mother’s pastor - Steve had stopped going to church after he graduated - said a few prayers and kind words, before he let a couple of people give their eulogies. The head nurse in his mother’s ward, a friend from college, their neighbor Mrs. Thompson, Winifred, the man who ran the choir, another nurse, one of the doctors, everyone. . . Then they asked for Steve to say a few words. 

 

He didn’t have anything prepared, didn’t want to speak, really. Words weren’t enough to say how much he loved his mother or how much she meant to him. There was nothing to say. . . But they expected it. They were waiting for him to say something. 

 

Steve took a deep breath and stood, walking up the stairs to the podium behind his mother’s open casket. She looked so peaceful, yet so unlike herself. Steve stood, just barely tall enough for people to see his face over the podium. He took a shaky breath and spoke.

 

“My mother loved me unconditionally as much as I loved her. She was there for me through every illness and ailment I went through, which is a lot. Trust me,” he got a few half-hearted chuckles from those who knew him well. He looked down at his mother again, his eyes tearing up. “I never got the chance to meet my father and we didn’t have much family around. So for a couple years it was just us. She was there for me and made sure I had everything. If it wasn’t for the fact she was a single mother, I think - no I know - she would have taken on another shift or two at the hospital. That woman was an angel, and if you disagree you didn’t know her.” He took a second to compose himself. “I don’t know what else to say, honestly. I can tell you all day long that she was beautiful, brave, loving, a strong, independent woman, but that’s common knowledge. You’re looking for something more, something deeper.” 

 

He pulled out a folded sketch of a photo that Winifred took when they first met the Barnes’. Steve had sketched it the other night and it was his favorite, especially since it was his mother’s favorite picture. Sarah was standing there, with Steve in her arms, and their noses bumping together. Sarah said Steve was too embarrassed to kiss his mother at that age, so she told him about Eskimo kisses. He was hooked, always asking for an Eskimo kiss whenever they were in public. Winifred caught the moment just right, with both of their eyes squinched shut and their grins wide and happy. Steve did his best to captivate it. He drew it twice, keeping one for himself and the better of the two was in his hands. 

 

“I don’t know what her last words were, don’t know when she took her final breath. But I do know the last words she ever told me. It was the day before, when Bucky and I were visiting. Thinking back, it was like she knew it’d be the last time she’d see me. Then again she didn’t like the idea of me being around to potentially get sick myself so it probably would have been the last time even if she lived on for another day or two. But as we were leaving, she told me she loved me. And that’s the last thing I ever heard her say. I’m thankful, I really am, that she let me in to talk to her for an hour or so.

 

“I’m not good with words. I don’t know what else to say. So I’ll just leave it at that.” He unfolded the sketch and walked down the stairs until he was level with his mother’s casket. Steve carefully laid the sketch beside her, pausing for just a moment. 

 

After the funeral, Steve ended up at the cemetery. Bucky and his parents hung back, giving him his space. The rest of the guests didn’t have that same mentality. He watched them lower his mother into the ground and he threw a half-hearted handful of dirt onto her casket. Steve glanced over at the plot beside her, the familiar head stone standing tall.  _ Take care of her, Dad _ , he thought as he made his way down the path. 

 

Nobody noticed the small blonde leaving. Except for Bucky.

 

“We should get going. Bucky, go find Steve,” George said after the crowd started to disperse. 

 

“Already left. Been gone for a good ten minutes,” Bucky mumbled, ready for his parents’ to yell at him. 

 

Winifred slapped his arm. “Why on earth didn’t you say anything?” Bucky shrugged. “He doesn’t need to be alone right now!” 

 

“Ma, you and I have been attached to his hip all week. I think he can manage walking home by himself. If he wanted us to drive him home, then he would have said something. I know Steve, he needs some time to wallow in his thoughts by himself.” Bucky started for the truck, before deciding to just walk. 

 

Somehow, he caught up with Steve. “Hey punk,” he called. Steve turned and gave a small smile to the brunet. He waited for Bucky to catch up, effortlessly jogging up to the younger man, even in his nice suit. Steve didn’t say anything, just started to walk towards his apartment. They walked up the stairs, their footsteps echoing against the brick. “We looked for you after. My folks wanted to give you a ride from the cemetery.”

 

“I know, I'm sorry. I just...kind of wanted to be alone.” 

 

Bucky nodded. “How was it?”

 

“It was okay. She’s next to Dad.”

 

“I was gonna ask…”

 

Steve sighed. “I know what you're gonna say, Buck, I just…”

 

Bucky gave him a hopeful smile as Steve patted his pockets, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “We can put the couch cushion on the floor like when we were kids. It'll be fun. All you gotta do is shine my shoes, maybe take out the trash.” Bucky kicked a stone over and grabbed the hidden key. “Come on.”

 

Steve gave him a thankful smile. “Thank you, Buck, but I can get by on my own.”

 

Bucky sighed. “The thing is, you don't have to.” He patted Steve’s shoulder, lingering for a moment. “I'm with you till the end of the line, pal.” Steve nodded and bit his lip, turning to unlock the door.

 

“I know, Buck. I know.” Steve opened the door and let them both in. Bucky closed the door behind him and took off his coat and shoes. He moved to help Steve out of his, ignoring Steve’s whines of protest.

 

Bucky moved to the kitchen, getting the oven started so he could heat up a dish one of the neighbors brought Steve. “What you said this morning was real nice. I teared up a bit, not gonna lie.” Bucky did his best to keep his voice casual as he moved around the kitchen. Steve stood in the doorway, a dazed look in his eyes. 

 

“Buck, I can make my own food. You don’t have to feed me.” Steve stood a little taller, a sheepish look on his face. “Actually,” his voice was tight and he looked like a child again, “can you just go home? I don’t wanna be around people.” Steve moved to walk away, not meeting Bucky’s hurt eyes.

 

He set the pan down on the counter, moving quickly to grab Steve’s wrist. He spun him around, not even bothering to mask his emotions. “Will you let me help you? Look, I get it. You need time to grieve on your own. That’s fine. I’m okay with you needing your space. That’s what I’ve been trying to do this entire week. That’s why I didn’t tell my folks you left when I saw you walking away. That’s why I’m trying real hard not to get upset. But Stevie,” he forced Steve to look at him, “we all care about you. We may not be your blood family, but we’re your family. Even if we don’t work out, which I find impossible, we’ll still be best friends and you’ll still be an honorary Barnes’ family member. And I know how you get. If it weren’t for your Ma and me, you’d forget to eat. So let me take care of you, alright? I need to take care of you.” Bucky’s voice grew softer with each sentence, his voice tighter.  

 

Steve looked up at him with tears in his eyes and nodded. He knew Bucky was hurting, too. He also knew Bucky had a tendency to take care of others, as much as Steve did, when he was hurting. It was something in his programming, something that made his paternal instincts kick in. If letting Bucky take care of him would help Bucky with his own grief, than that’s what he’d do. “Can we make that pillow fort? I’ll even shine your shoes.”

 

Bucky grinned and kissed Steve’s head. “Anything for you, baby boy.” Bucky let him go, moving to set up the living room. 

 

They spent the rest of the day in that fort, both of them curled up with their books. Bucky was rereading  _ the Great Gatsby _ and Steve was sketching the scene. He had finally felt peace after a week of misery. Steve glanced up at Bucky, moving slightly so he could kiss the side of Bucky’s mouth. “Thank you for everything,” he whispered, his lips still pressed against Bucky’s skin. “It means so much to me that you’re here trying to help me out when I know you’re hurting just as bad. You’re the best friend a guy could ask for.” 

 

Bucky wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer, kissing at his hair. “Like I said, I’m with you till the end of the line.” 

  
“Till the end of the line.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this wasn't too bad. . . Bit on the longer side, but I don't know. 
> 
> None of this is edited, honestly. I need to find a beta/editor who can help me out. Thanks for reading!


	12. 1937

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't edited, but I felt awful for making you guys wait. . . Sorry!!! Hope it's worth it!

_ Chapter Ten _

  
  


**1937**

 

Bucky walked into the Rogers’ apartment, looking just like it did when Sarah passed four months ago. He shuffled out of his boots and his coat, taking off his hat. “Steve?” He called, walking further into the living room. “You home?”

 

“Kitchen!” Bucky moved towards the kitchen, a small smile on his face. Steve was washing dishes, his sleeves rolled up and his eyebrows and nose scrunched as he focused on scrubbing the pots and pans clean. “How was work?”

 

“It was good. Almost done with it. I dunno if they’ll want me on the next job,” Bucky said sadly. He grabbed a rag off the counter and started to dry the dishes. “I also took the long way home, if you didn’t notice, and I might have found us a place.”

 

Steve nodded. “How much?”

 

Bucky shrugged. “Didn’t ask. I just know that it may be the best place we can find. May not be in our price range, but I can scrounge up some more money, maybe pick up another job or something. I think you’ll like it. I even met a man who lived in the building,” he paused for a second before leaning in to whisper in Steve’s ear, “with his partner.” 

 

Steve dropped the dish into the water and turned around to face Bucky with a raised eyebrow. “His partner?” Steve’s tone was hushed, as if the walls would expose their secrets to the rest of the world. “How do you know?”

 

“He told me. Kinda. He hinted at it,” Bucky mumbled. He shrugged and set down the rag, moving his arm to trap Steve in place. “Mentioned how there were mostly men in the building, roommates that keep to themselves. Then he winked at me and his eyes lingered a bit too long on my body. Felt kinda gross, if I’m gonna be honest. Anyways, he asked me if I was thinkin’ about movin’ in and then when I said I might, he asked if I had a girl. I was honest and said it was complicated, then he downright asked me - all secretive like, mind you - if I was queer.” Steve’s eyebrows practically flew to his hairline.

 

“He asked you?” Bucky nodded, a smile on his face. “What’d you tell him?”

 

Bucky’s smile faltered a little. “I didn’t say anything, just kept quiet. Figured that was safer than answering in the public. He didn’t seem to judge me, though. Which is good. Then he went on to explain that the block and the one beside it were mostly queers. Like their own little neighborhood. He told me that if I did move in and I had a fella, no one in the building would judge us. That just about everyone was queer in the building and if they weren’t they kept their mouths shut.” His grin grew wider, showing off his teeth. 

 

“This sounds too good to be true, Buck. I dunno. Maybe we should just find some place by the docks? It’d be cheaper-” Bucky shook his head. “What?”

 

“Stevie, I know we haven’t done anything yet. But we’re bound to at some point. ‘Specially if we got a place for ourselves,” Bucky whispered. Steve blushed, his blue eyes innocently wide. A smirk laced its way on Bucky’s lips, his cocky, easy-going aura intensifying. It only made Steve blush further. “Hell, the only reason we haven’t is ‘cause we’re in your Ma’s house and the whole building knows we live here together. We don’t need a neighbor hearing us and tellin’ my Ma and Pops they heard us. They’d kill us.”

 

Steve nodded with a sigh. “I know. But how can we trust these people?” 

 

Bucky shrugged. “Dunno, Stevie. Maybe this weekend we can check the place out? Talk to the landlord about it? Hell, we can meet a couple of the neighbors. I think the guy, Mark, lives on the third floor. He said we can come over any time. Whatcha say, Steve?” 

 

“I don’t see the harm in looking at it,” Steve mumbled. Bucky let out a silent cheer, pulling Steve into his arms and planting a sloppy kiss on his lips. Steve giggled and pushed him away. “I gotta finish these dishes. Start dinner?” Bucky nodded, stealing another kiss before he moved to get dinner started.

 

That weekend, the boys made their way over to the neighborhood. It was only a couple of blocks away, about a ten minute walk from their parents’ building. There was something new and exciting about the neighborhood with all it’s unexplored alleys and new buildings, but a familiarity of Brooklyn eased any uncertainty Steve had. “This place is nice,” Steve mumbled.

 

“Looks just like all the other neighborhoods, Steve,” Bucky teased. Steve rolled his eyes and slapped Bucky’s shoulder. “I know what you mean,” the brunet mumbled after a while. “That’s the building Mark lives in and with the place for rent.” He pointed across the street to a building wedged between two others. 

 

Steve let Bucky drape an arm lazily across his shoulders and guide him across the street, weaving between the cars. They walked down to the front steps of the building, marching up the stairs to Mark’s place. Steve only got a little winded. Bucky knocked on the door, mumbling something about hoping he remembered right.

 

A short, balding man opened the door, big brown eyes glaring at the two before widening in recognition. He let out a laugh that rumbled from his belly and erupted in the hallway. “Bucky, was it?” He asked, already reaching out to shake Bucky’s hand. “This must be your partner, Steven, right?” The man grabbed Steve’s hand and gave two powerful pumps before he dragged them both in. 

 

“And you are?” Bucky asked, moving in front of Steve slightly. Steve tried his best not to grin at how cute Bucky got when he was protective. 

 

The man blushed, a not-so-shy grin on his face. “I’m sorry, I get so excited when we have potential new neighbors. I’m Victor, Mark’s partner. Let me get Mark, he’s in the middle of some work stuff. Come in, come in. Make yourselves at home!” Victor motioned to the couch and disappeared into the hallway with a call of Mark’s name. 

 

He returned with a man in a suit, who Bucky seemed to recognize. His dark hair was slicked back, a lot like Bucky’s when he went somewhere nice, like church, and his mustache was thin, making his face look thinner and older. “Bucky, my friend! I knew I’d see you soon. How are you, son?” 

 

Bucky relaxed, taking Mark’s hand in his for a moment. “I’m good, real good.” He turned to motion to Steve, a grin on his face. “This is Steve, my, um, partner.” The look on Bucky’s face screamed love drunk, like he was saying ‘I love you’ for the first time. He was so happy and so proud that he got to call Steve his. There was something exciting and addicting to call him that, even if he preferred calling Steve his boyfriend. Partner was too formal.

 

Either way, Steve blushed and matched his goofy grin. “Hi,” Steve managed, taking Mark’s outstretched hand for a moment. “Nice to meet you both.” 

 

“Likewise, Bucky talks highly of you. You make a cute couple.” The looks on their faces, the blushes that made Mark and Victor both melt at the sight of two love-sick puppies. “Sit, sit. Let us have a chat!” 

 

The four men sat down, Mark and Victor sharing the small loveseat while Steve and Bucky took the couch. “Steve, did Bucky explain the neighborhood?” Mark asked, his left arm wrapped around Victor’s waist, the right gesturing as he talked. 

 

Steve nodded. “S’all he’s talked about since you met.” Bucky shrugged, his casual, suave attitude returning as he bumped Steve’s shoulder. Mark smiled appreciatively and glanced at Victor softly, sharing a message with the man with only his eyes. Bucky cleared his throat, knee bumping Steve’s gently. Steve nodded, clearing his own throat. “I just. I’m a little uneasy about all this. How, um, can we be sure that-” he didn’t let himself finish.

 

Victor nodded, an understanding look on his face. “You’re never sure. You need to keep your guard up most of the times. But the landlord, he and his wife look the other way for the most part. Makes sure when you move in that people mind their own business. What they hear coming from an apartment or if they see something suspicious, stays in that apartment. It’s a privacy thing and everyone in the buildings okay with it. Of course, most of us still keep up fronts to keep things from being obvious.” He turned to look at Mark, brushing something off his shoulder. “That’s what Mark’s all dressed up for. He’s taking this girl he met at work out.” Victor gave a small, tight smile, obviously stating he wasn’t okay with it, but he understood the reasoning. 

 

Bucky nodded. “I do the same already. I mean, Steve would too but no dame wants to dance with a man whose eye level is at their chest.” 

 

“No different than you staring at their chest all night,” Steve deadpanned. Bucky rolled his eyes and gave Steve a goofy grin. 

 

“Anyways,” Bucky said, “we are definitely thinkin’ of rentin’ us a place here. Think they’ll let us?” 

 

Mark and Victor both nodded and then the conversation turned a bit more casual, the older men telling the younger more about the neighborhood and what to expect. They shared stories about their secret romances, the older couple slightly jealous that Steve and Bucky had found each other so young that them being as close as they are would have an outsider looking over the lingering touches and fond smiles. Either way, the four talked for at least an hour before Mark announced he’d be late for his date. Bucky and Steve walked with him out the building and down the block before they separated to go their separate ways.

 

Two weeks later, Bucky came home with a big grin and a piece of paper folded in his coat pocket. “We got it, Stevie!” He announced once the door shut behind him, already celebrating in his mind.

 

Steve came barreling out of their bedroom, his face as bright as Christmas morning. “Really?” He squealed. 

 

Bucky held up the papers, his head nodding eagerly. “We get to move in this weekend. Mark and Victor put in a good word for us. Landlord didn’t think twice.” Steve threw himself into Bucky’s arms, tackling him halfway onto the couch like they were kids again.

 

They spent all night giggling in Steve’s old bedroom, sharing secret kisses and small smiles.

 

The next day, Bucky recruited his siblings - after school got out - and his mother to help them pack everything up. Steve had it all organized, boxes and crates (Bucky’s old boss at the grocer leant them all the boxes and crates they’d need. He still had a soft spot for the two.) labeled accordingly. He personally packed away his mother’s things, shifting through it all slowly as if it’ll all disappear as quickly as she had. 

 

Bucky and Winifred let him take his time.

 

It only took them two days to pack everything up. Most of it wouldn’t go with them, instead going to the neighbors who might need some of their old clothes or stored in his parents’ place for safe keeping. It only took them one trip in George’s truck to get it all over to the new building. Bucky, George, and Eugene carried the boxes up to the apartment while Steve and Winifred started to sort everything. 

 

That night, when the Barnes’ left, Steve and Bucky finished getting everything situated. “Can you believe it, Stevie?” Bucky called from their bedroom, unpacking a box of their clothes. 

 

Steve grinned to himself, pulling out his few art supplies out and setting them in a corner of their living room. “It’s kind of crazy,” he replied. Bucky sauntered out of the room, a hammer in his hand. “It’ll be nice to actually have some place to call our own.”

 

“Yeah, now we officially share a room. Which I think is pretty cool.” He gave Steve a big, dorky grin and grabbed a few of Steve’s sketches he had framed for Christmas (one of the two of them, one of his mother, a self-portrait of Steve, and one of Bucky and his siblings). Bucky moved to the small hallway and started to hang up the sketches. “I can’t wait for you to add on to these. Maybe, once we’re comfortable and in a good place money wise, I can get you some paints and you can paint a couple to add some color.” 

 

“I’d like that,” Steve mumbled. He moved on to unpack their books, organizing them on a small bookshelf from Bucky’s old room. Bucky stopped, setting down his hammer and nails, and moved to hug the small blonde. “We’re adults,” Steve whispered, turning to hug Bucky close to him. 

 

Bucky hummed, nuzzling his nose into Steve’s hair. “We are,” he whispered back.

 

“Kinda scary.”

 

“Why be scared?” Bucky pulled away to look down at him. “We’ve got each other. That’s all that matters.” Steve grinned and lifted himself up on his toes, kissing Bucky softly. Bucky grinned, arms wrapping around Steve’s waist, deepening the kiss. 

 

Steve pulled away, foreheads pressed together. “That’s all I need.” 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Bucky stood in the bathroom, tying his tie and smoothing out his hair. Steve sat on the toilet seat beside him, his blue eyes glued to Bucky’s face. “I wish I could come with.” 

 

“I know, baby doll, but it’s not safe to take you out. I want to,” he turned to Steve, “God I want to so bad, but it ain’t safe. And your safety comes first, understand?” Steve nodded, letting Bucky lean over and kiss his head. “I gotta go pick her up, be back later.” Bucky slipped into his shoes and grabbed his wallet and watch. 

 

“Be safe. Have fun,” Steve called as he grabbed his sketchbook and curled up on the couch. Bucky walked over, leaning over him to steal a quick kiss before he finally left.

Bucky walked down the hall, hands stuffed in his pockets. He was going down the stairs when he heard a familiar voice call out to him from below. “Hey Mark, how are you?” Bucky picked up the pace to meet him at the door. 

 

“I’m doing swell. How ‘bout you?” Bucky shook Mark’s hand, a big smile on his face. 

 

“Good, good.” 

 

“Lookin’ good. Where you headin’ off to at this time of night?” Mark crossed his arms as he watched Bucky with a knowing smirk. 

 

Bucky held up his hands in defeat. “Takin’ a girl I met out dancin’.” 

 

Mark nodded and patted Bucky’s shoulder. “I know how that is. You should get going so you can get back home. I’m sure Steve’s probably bored.” 

 

“He’s probably doing homework or something tonight, wouldn’t want me bothering him anyways,” Bucky explained. 

 

“Well, have fun with your date.” Mark started up the stairs before he stopped and spun around. “Wait, I gotta tell you something,” Mark practically shouted as Bucky reached for the door. “There’s this new club, real snazzy and all that, but the owner lives in the building across the street.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, “He’s queer as all get out. So when he opened the club, he made a private floor for queers. Victor and I went last week and it was incredible!” 

 

Bucky was grinning as wide as he could. He really did love dancing, but he loved dancing with Steve in their bedroom. It’d be a dream to take him out dancing in an actual club. . .

 

Mark matched his smile and started back up the stairs. “It’s a block away, can’t recall the name but you’ll know it when ya see it. It’s the brightest building on the block. I’ll find the name and give it to you before next week. Now get going!” Bucky thanked him before scrambling out the door and down the street.

 

A week later, Bucky got all dressed up again. “Another date?” Steve asked with a sigh, his nose buried in his sketchbook for a piece that was due soon. 

 

“Yup.” Bucky’s signature smirk appeared in the mirror as he slicked his hair back and shaved. “My date’s a real show stopper, Steve. Pretty blue eyes and golden locks, small as a bird, though.” He walked out the bathroom, fixing his collar and grabbing his things. “How do I look?”

 

Steve looked up and grinned. Bucky wiggled his eyebrows at Steve and spun around, hands tugging at his suspenders. “Incredible. Your date’s one lucky dame. She’ll have the sexiest dance partner.” 

 

A blush coated Bucky’s face as he leaned down. “Shut up, you,” he whispered as he stole a quick kiss. “Better get goin’. Don’t want to leave them waiting.” He double checked everything and snuck out the door. 

 

Steve returned his attention to the sketchbook and shaded in the shadows of the kids playing in the street he saw earlier. He curled in on himself, focusing all on making the page as lifelike as possible. His teacher was really impressed with his realism and the one assignment they had obtaining to it, he couldn’t mess it up. 

 

His hand danced along the page delicately, his mind no longer thinking of the girl Bucky was taking out. How lucky she was that she got to dance with him. How she gets to hang off his arm and giggle in his ear without anyone batting an eye. How she got to kiss on him without people threatening to kill them. 

 

He wasn’t thinking about her at all. 

 

It wasn’t until a knock at the door startled Steve out of his thoughts that he quit thinking about her. He scrambled up, calling out to whoever that it’d be a minute, and set down the sketchbook. Steve walked to the door and opened it, revealing a dashing looking Bucky holding up a bouquet of flowers as he leaned against the door frame. “Hey gorgeous,” he said softly. 

 

“Bucky, what’s going on?” Steve mumbled as he let him inside. “Why didn’t you just walk in?”

 

“If I’m taking you on a proper date, Steve, then I’m doing this right. These,” Bucky gave him the flowers, “are for you.” Steve blinked up at him, mouth agape and his mind jumbled. He took the flowers and walked into their small kitchen, putting the flowers in a cup of water. 

 

“Thank you,” Steve whispered as he turned to kiss Bucky. “They’re beautiful. I love them.” 

 

Bucky grinned against Steve’s lips and pulled him close for a moment. “Good. Now go get ready. I’m taking you dancin’.” Steve pulled away, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes widened a bit. Before he could question it, Bucky shook his head. “Go get ready, baby doll.” 

 

Once Steve was ready, the two made their way down the block. Neither said a word, both of them enjoying the comfortable silence between them. It wasn’t until they made it to the club that Steve said something. “How exactly is this gonna work?” Steve whispered as Bucky guided him to the back. 

 

“Just wait,” Bucky told him. 

 

They maneuvered through the crowd, Steve following behind him as close as he’d allow. It wasn’t until Bucky brought him to a stairwell marked ‘Employees Only’ and shut the door behind them that Steve got nervous. “Where are we going?” 

 

“Mark told me about this place. Just head up the stairs and open the door. Trust me.” Bucky gently pushed him up the stairs, a hand resting on his lower back. Steve did as he was told and opened the door carefully, revealing another dance floor. He stepped in further, his eyes examined everything. 

 

The band was playing a quick, swing song and people were having a ball dancing. 

 

Then he noticed the couples dancing, all of them men. 

 

“Is this what I think it is?” 

 

Bucky nodded, hand stuck out. “Dance with me?” Steve grinned and took his hand, letting Bucky drag him down to the dance floor.

 

Steve couldn’t dance, but Bucky didn't mind. He’d been trying to teach Steve how to dance since they were kids and the boy just had two left feet, that s’all. Either way, he was the best dance partner Bucky ever had. 

 

They danced the night away, taking a break every few songs to drink or in Bucky’s case have a smoke. “Thank you for this,” Steve whispered when a slower song came on. They held each other close, bodies pressed together as tight as they could like all the other couples. “I don’t think we’ve ever had this much fun.” 

 

Bucky shrugged and nuzzled his face in Steve’s hair. “I agree. We’ll have to do this again, yeah?” Steve nodded, eyes closing softly. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too.” 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

The day started out boring, just like any other day. Steve and Bucky woke up at five and ate a quick breakfast of oatmeal before they both had to scramble to get to work. Steve got a job at the paper as a paperboy and has since been spending a majority of his day selling and delivering newspapers to just about everyone this side of Brooklyn. It’s a lot of walking, but Steve doesn’t mind. Bucky has to get down to the docks as early as he can, just to make sure his boss knows he wants the job. It’s the type of job that fits Bucky’s needs (the pay is alright and he doesn’t have to do a whole lot with his brain), even if it’s hard labor and long hours. 

 

It’s not until Steve’s taking a two minute breather that he gets a chance to look at the paper. He knows better than to open it up and read it, especially with some of his clients, but it helps him keep his breathing in check to at least read the front page. 

 

That’s when he realizes the date. 

 

‘ _ Thursday, June 24, 1937 _ ’ is typed out underneath the  _ Daily Bugle _ . 

 

Steve’s eyes bulged and his breathing only quickened. Today isn’t just any day, no. . . it’s his anniversary with Bucky and he forgot. 

 

Steve completed his route in record time and only had to stop another three times. His mind was everywhere as he dropped off paper after paper and collected whatever money he could. He rushed back to the office, panting and drenched in sweat. The secretary crinkled her nose; it wasn’t even eleven and he was already gross from the heat? “Go home and clean up. I need you to do a couple things for me when you get back.” She waved him off, red lips curled in disgust. 

 

With a bashful smile and a bright red face, Steve quickly left the building and ventured back home. 

 

As soon as he crossed the threshold, he was scrambling to clean. The two young men weren’t the cleanest, nor did they have time to clean with all the hours they put in. By the time they got home, they only wanted to eat and sleep (and lazily make-out, but that was about it). So Steve cleaned the apartment from head to toe, to the point it practically sparkled. It looked better than when they moved in. . . 

 

And then he was leaving again, heading to the store to buy all the ingredients he’d need to make Bucky’s favorite meal. He wasn’t going too much out of his way, since they needed groceries anyways. Steve carried the groceries back home, stopping again at the florist to get those flowers Bucky’s constantly complimenting (he says they match Steve’s eyes, but Steve thinks they look more like Bucky’s). 

 

He put everything away and freshened up a little, enough to get by at work at least. He left to go back to work, spending an hour or so there doing random tasks the secretary had for him. Then he was back at home again, about two hours before Bucky would come home. 

 

Steve started dinner, following the recipe from his mother’s cookbook. It was really just a notebook with all her recipes, his maternal grandmother’s recipes, his paternal grandmother’s and any other recipe Sarah deemed worthy to go in the book. He loved cooking from it, it made him feel special and connected to something more.

 

Despite having kept himself busy all day with work and preparing his special night for Bucky, Steve’s brain was buzzing with guilt. He felt awful for forgetting, even if he didn’t completely forget. Just last month he was thinking of presents for Bucky, even started to work on a collage of drawings of them being all domestic. . . It seemed so far away, yet here it is. 

 

Steve set the table and put the flowers in the center, but closer to the edge so it didn’t block either of them. His fingers twitched as he fixed each little detail, folding the napkins and fixing the silverware so it’s perfectly even to the plate. He spent at least twenty minutes making sure it was all perfect, then, after checking the meatloaf in the oven, he left the kitchen to change. He changed into a nicer shirt, one that Bucky said made him look bigger and bright. It was Bucky’s favorite on him, his go-to date shirt.

 

Bucky took a long drag of his cigarette, grumbling to himself as he tried to escape the impending storm. His boots hit the pavement in heavy thuds, his body physically drained from the heavy lifting he’d been doing all day. All he wants to do is go home and curl up with Steve as they listened to whatever radio show was playing. Maybe they’d listen to the Dodgers’ game they missed the other day? He honestly didn’t care, just wanted to have Steve curl up in his arms. 

 

As soon as Bucky turned the corner onto their street, the bottom fell out. He cursed, dropping his cigarette and running as fast as he could through the sheets of rain until he reached the steps to their building. He was dripping wet, his shirt soaked through and his hair sticking to his forehead. 

 

He really needed to hold Steve now. 

 

Bucky grumbled to himself as he stomped up the stairs, little frustrations that had followed him around all day (like how Mike thought he could yell at him for working through lunch and taking all of his loads - it’s not Bucky’s fault he could barely afford to stop working, much less that he finished his loads earlier that day - or how the train had been late, again). And then he couldn’t get his key out, thanks to his wet hands and drenched pants. Bucky cursed, his forehead hitting the doorframe as he let out a shaky breath. 

 

Steve raised an eyebrow as he rolled the collage up, tying it with a piece of string he found in some drawer. He crept into the living room, peering at the door with his lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed. That’s when he heard the familiar voice mumbling on the other side. A grin broke out on his face as he opened the door. “Hi,” he whispered, catching Bucky’s attention. 

 

Bucky opened one eye, looking down at a shy looking Steve dressed in that shirt Bucky loved so much with his hair parted just so and his smile all bashful. Bucky practically melted in his boots as he gave a small, tired smile. He didn’t move, still dripping and leaning against the doorframe. “Hi,” he mumbled. 

  
“Rough day?” He nodded, using all his strength to push himself off the frame. “Come here,” Steve whispered as he took Bucky’s hand. He guided him inside, bypassing the kitchen/dining area and going straight to the bedroom. “I was hoping you’d make it home before the storm came in,” Steve explained as he helped Bucky out of his drenched clothes. 

“You and me both.” Bucky sighed and let his eyes close again as Steve’s fingers fluttered over his body, pulling off wet clothes and pulling warm, dry ones back on. “Something smells good, what’d ya make?” 

 

Steve grinned and pecked Bucky’s lips before dragging him back to the kitchen. He turned shy once again, curling in on himself as he waited for Bucky’s response to his little surprise. “Your favorite,” he told him. 

 

Bucky froze, taking it all in. The fancy dinner, the fancy meal, Steve’s nice clothes, those flowers he kept talkin’ about. . . 

 

It was their anniversary and he forgot. 

 

Steve watched as Bucky’s face fell and his body tensed. He watched as Bucky went through an eternal panic, his eyes wide and scanning the area. Steve’s guilt washed away instantly, as if seeing the look on Bucky’s face made it all worthwhile.

 

“Oh, thank god,” Steve said with a laugh.

 

Bucky snapped out of it, looking at Steve with a crazed, confused look. “Stevie, I’m real sorry. I’ve been so-” Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck and mashed his lips against his. Bucky’s voice was muffled against Steve’s lips, his hands flailing a little before resting on Steve’s skinny hips. He pulled away reluctantly his chin dipping as he met Steve’s bright, baby blue eyes. “Why aren’t you pissed?” 

 

“Because I forgot, too.” Steve blushed and ducked his head in Bucky’s neck. “Only difference is, I remembered earlier.” Bucky let out a laugh that erupted straight from his belly and vibrated off the walls as he held Steve close to him, a hand in his blonde hair and a hand in the middle of his back. 

 

“Have I told you how much I love you?” Bucky whispered, his kiss-swollen lips mouthing just below Steve’s left ear. 

 

“Just about every day. But you can tell me again, I don’t mind,” Steve whispered. He pulled back to look at him, a grin splitting his porcelain face. “Happy anniversary, Bucky.” 

 

“Happy anniversary, Steve. Now, let’s eat before it gets cold.” Bucky let Steve go, sliding his hand in his. They walked to the table, slipping into their seats from across each other. “This looks great, baby.” 

 

They ate together, ankles hooked around each other and obnoxiously dopey grins plastered on their faces. Bucky vented about his day, about the work he’d been doing, and Steve listened. Then they switched, Steve vented and Bucky listened. Everything was perfect, they were perfect. 

 

“You know, Stevie,” Bucky started as he picked up their dirty dishes. He carried them to the wash basin and started to scrub away at the grime in the cold water. “We haven’t done this in a while, just spent the night talkin’. I missed it.” 

 

“I did, too,” Steve got up and walked over to Bucky. “I’ve got something for you, as a gift.” Bucky stopped, moving his arm to look at Steve as the small blonde ducked under. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist, nuzzling into Bucky’s shoulder with a goofy little smile on his face. Bucky smiled, wiped his hands real quick on his work pants, and wrapped his arms around Steve tightly. His nose was nestled in Steve’s fluffy blond hair, his eyes closed. 

 

“Didn’t have to,” he mumbled. 

 

“I know.” Steve giggled and slipped out of Bucky’s arms, grabbing the rolled up collage. He handed it to him, a shy, expecting smile on his face. Bucky pursed his lips and pulled the string, unraveling the collage. Little sketches of the two of them littered the page. There was one of them dancing in the living room, another of them curled up in bed, one of the two of them doing the dishes, a few of Bucky’s various facial expressions, and right in the middle a picture of them kissing framed by their hands making a heart. 

 

“Stevie,” Bucky gasped, “this is beautiful. You’ve really outdone yourself, baby.” Bucky’s hands gripped the paper tightly, yet his thumb gently traced the closest with the utmost care. He rolled it back up, tying it back up, and setting it carefully on the table. “Steve, these past two years have been incredible. I’m still really sorry about forgetting today was our anniversary, even if you did, too.” 

 

Steve kissed him, smiling. “You’re the best, Buck. I don’t care if you forgot or if you didn’t do anything. I just care that you’re here. That you’re with me. Till the end of the line, right?” 

 

“Till the end of the line.” Bucky grinned, swooping in to kiss Steve as hard as he could. 

His arms slipped around Steve’s waist, his hands caressing his hips and ass lovingly. “You’re too good for me, Steven Rogers,” Bucky whispered against Steve’s lips as he ducked down to kiss Steve’s jaw and neck. His lips moved slowly and sensually as they moved up towards Steve’s ear. “Wanna show you how good you are, make you see what you do to me,” he mumbled, his warm breath on the shell of Steve’s ear. 

Steve moaned, his hands gripping Bucky’s shoulder blades and his nails digging into the fabric, barely grazing the skin. “Then show me,” Steve grunted in a voice lower than usual. 

Bucky smirked and pushed Steve’s hips closer to his, letting Steve feel the arousal brewing in his work pants. “Words can’t express how much you mean to me, how you make me feel, make me act.” 

“I know,” Steve groaned. And then his hips bucked against the brunet, involuntarily but not unwelcome. “How exactly do I make you act?”

They’ve done this before. They’ve had this conversation a billion times, formed in every imaginable sequence and spoken the same way, with all the genuine love and desire they shared. Yet, it always ended the same way. Steve would stop them before they’d go all the way, giving some lame excuse like “I was sick last week, don’t want you catching anything” (even though they’d been kissing for at least half an hour) or “We’ve got new neighbors, can’t risk it” (when the new neighbors were on the top floor on the opposite side of the building and couldn’t possibly hear them). They’d end up doing something else, getting each other off or simply continue their heavy make-outs and ferocious grinding. 

He’d never tell Bucky the real reason, but Steve was never one to run away from an issue. 

That’s why he grabbed Bucky by the collar and brought his lips down towards him, giving him one of the roughest, most passionate kiss Bucky had ever received. Then, on their shaky legs, he dragged Bucky back into their bedroom. Steve plopped down on the bed, scrambling to lay against the two pillows they had, and watched eagerly as Bucky crawled up his body until he reached his face, where he planted a kiss right on Steve’s plump lips. 

“Hey Buck,” Steve whispered against Bucky’s lips as he tugged on Bucky’s hair. Bucky leaned back, chewing on his bottom lip. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for Steve to continue. “I think I’m ready.” 

Bucky sat up straight, sitting beside Steve on the bed. “Stevie, you sure? We can wait-”

“Bucky, we’ve waited for two years. I know you’ve been waiting patiently and. . .” Steve took a deep, shaky breath. Then he continued, “I just want to make you happy and connect with you in a way no one will ever connect with you.” A blush 

“Steve, first of all, you know I’m not a virgin. I’ve had sex before, so technically you aren’t the only one to connect with me like this. However, I didn’t care for her like I did you. Hell, I was thinkin’ ‘bout you the whole time. So you are right on that.” Bucky cleared his throat, his dilated eyes sobering just a little to show how serious this next part was. “But don’t you ever,  _ ever _ , think you have to give me sex for me to be happy. I’m happy when you’re happy, healthy, and with me. Okay?” Steve nodded, eyes darting away shyly. Bucky reached over, taking his chin in his hand and gently bringing their faces close. “You really wanna do this, Stevie? ‘Cause I will. I’ll show you just how much you mean to me. Make you feel so good. I’ll make this so special for you, for us, Stevie. I promise,” Bucky whispered as he kissed up Steve’s jaw. 

Steve moaned softly, leaning into Bucky’s gentle touches and kisses. “Please?” 

“Need you to actually say yes, Stevie,” Bucky said softly. He was already moving to hover over Steve, his knees straddling Steve’s thighs. “Tell me, baby. Do you want this?”

Steve whined, nodding. “Want you, Buck. Please.” 

Bucky grinned, pulling away from Steve’s neck to kiss him. It wasn’t sloppy or careless, rather nurturing and full of so much love. . . It was perfect. It was intoxicating. It was everything.

And then Bucky’s fingers were tugging Steve’s shirt out of his pants and undoing his suspenders. They unbuttoned his shirt one button at a time, gently gliding over his thin torso until they reached the final button up at the top. Bucky didn’t even have to say a word, Steve was already leaning up and tugging the shirt off his shoulders. “God, you’re beautiful,” Bucky whispered as he pulled Steve’s undershirt off, before quickly ripping his own off.

A dark blush coated Steve’s cheeks, migrating down to his chest like wildfire. “You should look in a mirror,” Steve whispered as his hands roamed Bucky’s chest and shoulders. Bucky wasn’t massive, but he was lean and defined nonetheless. It was sexy and Steve just wanted to kiss all over it, run his nose along each ridge and dip of his abdomen and nuzzle the tufts of chest hair he had. 

“Steve,” Bucky started, but he didn’t continue. He didn’t have the chance to, because as soon as he opened his mouth to say something smart and argue, Steve was tugging him back down and kissing him as hard as he could. 

  
There was no going back now. . .

 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Fall came around quickly, chilling the humid air and bringing about  Steve’s worst enemy: the common cold. He sniffled, wiping his nose with his handkerchief and taking a deep, congested breath. “I hate this,” he grumbled. Steve was seated on the creaky, old sofa he’d kept from his mother’s place. 

 

Bucky chuckled from the kitchen as he carried a bowl of homemade vegetable soup into the living room. “I know you do. You’ll get through it, though. I swung by the pharmacist and got your medication, should help you feel a little better. Eat this,” he explained as he handed the bowl to Steve. 

 

“Thanks,” Steve sniffled. He curled up into the blanket draped around his shoulders and took a cautious spoonful of the hot soup. 

 

“Taste alright?” Bucky asked as he walked back into the kitchen for his own bowl and Steve’s medicine. 

 

“Taste great,” Steve replied. Bucky sat beside him, tucking his sock-clad feet under Steve. Steve giggled behind his bowl, taking a few more quiet sips. Bucky set the medicine down on the floor where a couple of water glasses sat and took a sip of his soup. He winced at the heat and glared at Steve, but he didn’t argue.  _ Kid’s too nice to say the soups watered down too much _ , he thought with an eyeroll and a quiet smirk. The ate in silence for a moment, the occasional slurp and the clinking of their spoons filling the stale apartment air. “I’m sorry,” Steve finally mumbled around his spoon, his face half hidden by the bowl and the blonde wisps of hair that had fallen over his eyes. He needed it cut, but Bucky didn’t trust himself to cut it himself and they didn’t have the extra cash.

 

Bucky’s head tilted just a little as his right eyebrow rose. “Why? You didn’t do anything, doll.” 

 

The skinny blonde shrugged. “I know you were looking forward to going dancin’ with those gals you met at the store. Then you went and canceled for me the second you found out I was sick.” 

 

“Baby doll,” Bucky started as he sat up and moved Steve’s bowl out the way of his face, “I’d cancel meeting the President of the United States for you. Don’t you ever feel bad. It was my decision. You need me here. Which makes here, where I want to be.” Bucky grinned and dashed forward, planting a soft, lingering kiss on Steve’s blushing cheek. (It was already red with his fever, but the kiss only made it worse. It looked good on him, Bucky had to admit.) He leaned back, wiggling his toes under Steve as he watched the blonde giggle. 

 

Steve rolled his eyes and finished eating in silence, sneaking shy glances at Bucky (who only smirked and winked every time their eyes met) until they were both finished. The brunet stood, stretched, and took both of their bowls into the kitchen. He started the dishes in the basin, humming to himself some melody he’d overheard on his way home from work. That’s when he snuck a glance at the window to see the pink sky and purple clouds darkening ever so slowly and the faintest hint of stars peeking out. 

 

“Hey Stevie,” he called over his shoulder. “You take your medicine yet?” 

 

“Yes, Buck. I just took it.” Steve sighed and sniffled, curling in on himself. 

 

“Good.” Bucky picked up a rag and started to dry the dishes. He picked up a glass and walked over to the arc that separated the kitchen and living room. “How ya feelin’ anyways? You up to movin’ or you just wanna lay ‘round all night?” 

 

It took Steve a moment to answer, but he finally sighed. Steve turned to look at his brunet boyfriend ( _ his boyfriend _ . . . Two years and he still felt his heart skip a beat at the idea that he was lucky enough to call Bucky  _ his _ ) with a small, sad smile. “Buck, I don’t really wanna move. Just wanna lay with you. That okay?”

 

Bucky nodded and grabbed another glass. “Yeah, but do we have to squeeze on the couch? You might be little and we may be able to fit, but I can never get comfy, not for more than a few minutes at least.” He gave Steve a small, smile

 

The blond nodded. “That’s okay.” He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders a little tighter and stood up, the blanket trailing behind his small frame. 

 

“Good.” Bucky finished drying the dishes, Steve leaning against him sleepily as he did so. When Bucky was done, he turned and wrapped Steve in his arms for a moment, just holding him and swaying a little. “Love you, punk,” he whispered as he kissed Steve’s damp forehead lightly. 

 

“Love you, too. You jerk,” Steve mumbled against Bucky’s shoulder where his runny nose was leaving a small, wet spot in the fabric as he pressed his face as close as possible to the man. Bucky didn’t mind, he really didn’t, he only held him closer. 

 

After a while, Bucky pulled away and gave a small, sympathetic smile as Steve whined. “Hang on, doll. Be back,” Bucky whispered, his voice thick with his Brooklyn drawl. He walked away, leaving Steve swaying in the kitchen with a blanket around his small, bony shoulders. 

 

Steve shuffled back into the living room, his sniffles loud and obnoxious. He sat on the arm of the sofa, not wanting to get comfortable in case Bucky wanted to curl up in bed or something. 

 

He was right about the or something, because Bucky returned with a pile of old blankets and sheets, his wireless, and the biggest, most mischievous grin Steve had ever seen. “S’all that for?” Steve asked, his voice thick and congested. 

 

“You’ll see. Be right back.” Bucky pressed a quick kiss to Steve’s cheek and walked out the door. Steve huffed and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. His bony fingers pulled at a loose thread mindlessly as he waited for Bucky to return again.

 

Bucky popped back in, leaving the door wide open. He waltzed over to Steve, his eyes sparkling with a twinkle Steve died for every time he saw it. “C’mere,” Bucky whispered, his arms outstretched for Steve to tumble into. Steve let out a deep sigh as he fell into Bucky’s warm embrace, only to gasp as Bucky’s strong arms picked him up and carried him out the room as if he weighed nothing (he didn’t weigh much, but Bucky would never tell Steve how easy it was to pick him up). 

 

“Where we goin’?” Steve asked, his face pressed against Bucky’s neck and collarbone. His eyes had fluttered shut and his thin arms were draped lazily along Buck’s shoulders. 

 

“The roof,” Bucky replied, not all that focused on the conversation. He was too worried about not jostling Steve as he climbed the flights of stairs. 

 

“Why?”

 

“You wanted to cuddle, didn’t cha?” 

 

“On the roof?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Why?”

 

“Why not?” Bucky pushed open the door to the roof and gently set Steve down. The smaller man (because that’s what they are now,  _ men _ ) gasped as he took in the small little pallet of blankets and the wireless radio arranged in the middle of the roof. “Seemed like a waste to spend a nice Friday night inside all evenin’. Figured you might wanna get some fresh air, get out that goddamn apartment. ‘Sides, it’s a beautiful night and the sun’s just settin’,” Bucky was rambling and blushing, like this was their first date and they were back in grade school. 

 

Steve grinned and hugged Bucky tight, pressing a sniffly kiss to the skin underneath his chin. “It’s real nice, Buck. I really ‘ppreciate it.” Bucky grinned and led Steve over, the two of them gently curling up together on the blankets. The brunet reached over and turned on the wireless, one of their favorite broadcasts just starting up. He took the blanket from Steve’s shoulders and draped it across the both of them (he made sure to get Steve’s sock-clad feet before his own incase the chill in the air got any worse). 

 

The two laid there, listening to the broadcast quietly. Occasionally Steve would grumble about how terrible a decision the main character made and they’d make a bet on how long it took to blow up in his face. Bucky said it’d be within in the next week, while Steve thought it’d be within in the next two broadcasts. When the story ended, a soft melody started to play, followed by the lullaby of a talented jazz singer Steve couldn’t put a name to. 

 

It was about three songs in when Steve felt Bucky’s chest rumble with his voice while he heard his name fall from his lips. “You ever thought ‘bout our future?”

 

He thought about it and nodded. “Yeah. Sometimes. Why?”

 

Bucky made a noncommittal noise and shrugged with his right shoulder (the side Steve wasn’t currently laying on). “Just been thinkin’. Ma’s been askin’ me ‘bout a wife ‘n kids and I don’t really know what to tell her s’all. Keep havin’ to remind myself we can’t just do this forever. That one day, we’re gonna have to grow up and start families. Or else people are gonna be suspicious if us Stevie.” He took a shaky breath and cleared his throat, willing any tears that had welled up to his eyes to stop before they even started. “Don’t know what I’d do if I ended up gettin’ you killed ‘cause I was selfish and just wanted to love you,” Bucky whispered and pressed a long kiss to Steve’s temple.

 

Steve looked up with watery eyes, moving so he was laying more on his stomach (and still on Bucky) to get a better look at the beautiful man before him. “Buck, if anything happens to me it’s because this is just as much my choice as it is yours. And if something does happen, then so be it. I don’t regret this, don’t regret you. I don’t see why people can’t just  _ love _ , no matter who or what they are. Just wanna be with you, that’s all I care about.” He kissed his shoulder and laid his head back down. “I don’t know if I even want a family.”

 

Bucky raised an eyebrow, lifting his head to look down at Steve a little. “Thought you did?”

 

“Well yeah, before we got together. But now, it seems like I’m settlin’ for someone else if I can’t have a family with you. And no dame should ever be settled for. Scratch that,  _ no one  _ should be settled for. It just ain’t right.” Steve’s deep, congested voice echoed off the brick as a sliver of passion slipped out. 

 

“You’re a good man, Stevie. A real good man,” Bucky mumbled as he kissed the top of Steve’s head again before laying back down. 

 

They didn’t say anything for a while, until Steve whispered Bucky’s name. Bucky made another noncommittal noise and closed his eyes, his fingers running through Steve’s soft hair. “Why don’t we go over to your Ma’s house that often? And you only go when your dad ain’t there? Did you have a fallout you aren’t telling me about?” 

 

Bucky sighed. “No, we just don’t get along. Haven’t for a while.” 

 

Steve’s eyebrows scrunched together as he glanced up at Bucky. “How come?”

 

“Wanted me to get a job a couple of years ago. Ma wouldn’t let me. Said she didn’t want to see me drop out of school and miss out on an education. S’what I should’a done. Should’a dropped out and got myself a job, helped out more with the family. Yeah, I ended up gettin’ a good job at the grocer, but that didn’t help as much as they needed me to. Guess he just hasn’t gotten over it. We’ve been at each other’s throats since.” Bucky sighed, his arms tightening around Steve just a little. 

 

“Didn’t know that,” Steve mumbled.

 

“I know. Didn’t want you to. I feel real bad about it, kinda like I’m taking advantage of havin’ a dad when you don’t even have one ‘round.”

 

Steve sighed. “You shouldn’t feel bad because of me. You should feel bad because you don’t have a relationship with your father and you’re missing out, making him miss out. Promise me you’ll make up with him? Or at least try to?” Bucky nodded, echoing back his words softly. 

 

They listened to the radio some more, humming along to the melodies and singing softly with the singer. “What’s kinda job do you want, Steve? Whatcha wanna do with your life? Like, if something could really make you just ‘cause you get to do it everyday, then what’d it be?”

 

“I’d love to be able to paint everyday. With real nice paints and big canvases that’d cover our walls. I’d make things that would make people smile everyday and give everyone something to make them feel warm and gooey on the insides during the harshest of winters, like you do for me.” Steve nuzzled further into Bucky’s embrace. “It’s impractical and way too risky, though.”

 

Bucky swatted Steve’s ass playfully, a chuckle vibrating in his chest. “Don’t talk like that, Stevie. You wanna paint everyday, then I’ll find something that’ll make a shit ton so you can.” Steve grinned and rolled his eyes, moving to kiss Bucky’s cheek. 

 

“What about you? What’d your job be?” He asked quietly.

 

“I’ve always wanted to be a boxer. Everybody says I got the build for it, so might as well? ‘Sides, I’ve picked up a thing or two from following you ‘round and gettin’ my ass kicked every damn week.” Steve laughed softly into Bucky’s chest. 

 

“Then why don’t you? I’m sure there’s a gym you can go to, learn to be a real fighter. Hell, might earn some extra cash if you win some fights.” 

 

“You think so?” 

 

Steve nodded. “Yeah, you’re the strongest man I’ve ever met, Buck. I know you’d be the best fighter the world has ever seen.”

 

Bucky never replied, instead he kissed Steve softly, not even caring about his cold or whether or not he’d get it now too. They laid there a little while longer, until the sun had long been gone and the faint stars twinkled overhead. Until Steve was snoring softly on Bucky’s chest, his mouth open and his hair over his closed eyes. Bucky ended up carrying him to bed and bringing everything down. He didn’t have the heart to wake him up. 

  
The next day, Bucky’s throat hurt like hell. But he didn’t complain and neither did Steve, not even when his cold got worse and they were both curled up in bed on Bucky’s weekend off. Nope. Not even a cold could ruin their days. 


	13. 1939

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to make a quick apology for the state this chapters in. I wanted to write it, but I wasn't feeling it. It's kind of rushed and went in a completely different direction than I wanted it to. Sorry about that. I'll probably end up rewriting it, to be honest. Either way, I hope you enjoy it and/or will stick around to see what's to come. The 40's are coming up next chapter, which means the storyline becomes a bit more familiar and the chapters get longer. I'm really excited about it. Anyways, enjoy chapter eleven!
> 
> ~ J xx

_ Chapter Eleven _

  
  


**1939**

 

Bucky took a drag from his cigarette, head ducked as he braved the brisk wind on his way home. It was freezing and he’d worked all day in the unforgiving, freezing February weather. Yeah sure, it was better than the month before now that the rain had eased up, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t freezing constantly. 

 

He held the small cigarette between his lips, greedily accepting the warmth that came with each drag he took. Bucky walked down the street, boots falling heavy against the sidewalk. By the time he made it to their street, he was still trying to finish his smoke. Bucky walked on the opposite side, hoping to gain just a little longer (enough to finish, but not enough to keep him out in the cold - and away from Steve - for too long). 

 

It was when he was about two doors down from the building across from there’s that he looked up fully, cigarette dangling precariously. That’s when he noticed Steve sitting on the steps to their building, hunched over his lap with his knees drawn up. His small, bony hand was moving and his head would move every now and then, revealing the old tattered sketchbook he’d just about filled. The book itself was filled, but Steve didn’t like to waste anything, so he drew in every open page and tucked away any drawing he doodled on scrap paper between the leather bindings. Every time Bucky mentioned getting a new one, he’d tell him “it’s not full yet, Buck. It ain’t full until the thing won’t close anymore. Then I’ll get a new one. No use in wasting good, hard earned money that could have bought our meals on a new sketchbook that’ll entertain me on rainy days, when this one’s still got some life in it.” 

 

That didn’t stop Bucky from buying Steve a new one. He was planning on giving it to him for Valentine’s Day, a brand new leather bound book for him to sketch his heart out into. (Okay, it may also be for himself, but only because he absolutely adores Steve’s talent and watching Steve draw and seeing what the boy comes up with. Any chance he got, he’d watch Steve sketch or glance through the old, tattered book - or even the ones from when they were kids - until Steve got all flustered and embarrassed from his compliments. It’s his favorite thing in the world, other than Steve himself. If indulging in his selfish ways makes Steve happy too, then sue him.) 

 

Bucky leaned against a light post, directly across from the steps, and watched as Steve sketched. His eyes were drawn to the way Steve’s hair fell over his eyes, to those flushed cheeks, to his teeth chewing on his plump, bright red bottom lip (he could practically see his teeth chattering from here). But his heart practically burst when he saw the man he’s in love with look over to some skinny kid sitting beside him. The kid was animatedly talking to Steve, pointing at the drawing and waving his hands around. Steve met him with the same enthusiasm (he seemed to be teaching him how to draw) and a big, goofy smile. 

 

He watched the two interact until all that was left of his cigarette was ash. With a shiver and a sigh, Bucky jogged across the street. “You gotta be careful with your shading. It can really make or break your picture. It won’t necessarily ruin it, but if you’re going for a light-hearted easy feel and you’ve got heavy shading throughout, it could throw off your tone. Get what I’m saying?” Steve said, pointing to something with his pencil. The kid nodded, taking the pencil and drawing whatever he was supposed to. Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets and let out a deep, quiet breath, completely content to watch Steve’s interaction.

 

It always tugged on subconscious whenever he watched Steve interact with kids. He was always so good with them, not wanting them to feel left out like he always did and making sure they were content no matter the situation. He treated them like equals and they treated him like he was some sort of hero. (In Bucky’s eyes, Steve was always a hero. There was no second guessing it, either.) But the very image of Steve and children playing, be it at the park or in their living room, always made his heart ache. What he’d give to be able to have kids with Steve, biologically possible or not. He wanted nothing more than to start a family with this man, to raise children and grow old together. 

 

He wanted it all, but it wasn’t right.

 

None of what this was right. It felt right, it felt more than right, but Bucky’s brain never let him forget just how wrong he was. They were both men, men who were supposed to fall for beautiful women and have a couple of kids to keep the family name going. They weren’t allowed to love each other. They weren’t allowed to be together. They weren’t allowed to do anything. 

 

It’s not like Bucky regrets what they have, nor does he plan on ending it any time soon. He’ll have to one day, he’s not stupid. He knows he’ll need to break it off and find a nice dame to marry, to have his kids. But he also knows how heartbroken Steve will be. How his face will fall and those big blue eyes will water before Bucky can even finish his sentence. How Steve will scream and yell, begging Bucky to think this through, that they’ll figure something out. How their hearts will shatter and they won’t be complete until they get their arms around each other, even for a split second. Bucky knows what he has to do. He knows they can’t keep this up, their secret romance. 

 

All Bucky wants to do right now is keep living in this dreamland they’ve created. He just wants to live in the moment and pretend like none of that has to happen, as if they’d get the fairytale they deserve, that  _ Steve _ deserves. If they can pretend that it’s okay. . . . 

 

His heart aches just from thinking about the future, of reality. Bucky does his best to shake the thoughts away, focus on what’s in front of him. 

 

Steve -  _ beautiful, perfect, amazing, incredible Steve _ \- was still talking to the boy, who Bucky had recognized as the barber across the street’s kid, but his smile was bigger and bubbly. “Ray, this is my best friend Bucky. Buck, this is Ray,” Steve introduced. The kid, with his missing teeth and rosy cheeks, beamed up at Bucky, waving his free hand excitedly. 

Bucky matched him with a toned down smile and a little wave. He moved to perch himself on the cement stoop, leaning over to glance at Steve’s handiwork. The page was littered with little drawings, some Steve’s style and the others obviously Ray’s work. “Nice work, men. I particularly like that dog over there,” Bucky pointed to the corner where Ray had drawn one of the strays their neighbor Mrs. Petrella (and Steve, God bless him) liked to feed. 

 

“Thanks! Steve taught me how!” Ray giggled, coloring in the shadow underneath the mailbox Steve had just drawn.

 

“Oh yeah? He a good teacher or somethin’?” Ray nodded. Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. He glanced over to Steve, the blond beet red and shivering slightly underneath his layers of clothes (Bucky recognized some of his shirts, but he didn’t say anything). “Steve, what are you doin’ out here anyway? You just got over the flu, I can’t afford you gettin’ sick again,” Bucky scolded somewhat playfully.

 

Steve rolled his eyes and waved him off. “Was sketching the skyline again and saw Ray sittin’ by himself over on his dad’s stoop all by himself. Decided to come down and keep him company, like you used to do for me,” Steve explained quietly. That’s when Bucky caught sight of the cast on Ray’s right foot and Bucky instantly felt sorry for the kid. 

 

“Dammit Steve,” Bucky cursed with a smile. “You’re too damn nice. It’s gonna get you killed one a’ these days.” He reached over and ruffled Steve’s hair. Steve waved him off with a bubbly giggle and a big ol’ grin, going back to teaching Ray how to draw random stuff. Finally, when Bucky was sure Steve was only still sitting out here because he’d been frozen in place, he cleared his throat and said, “I hate to break this lesson up, but it’s freezin’ out here and I’m starved. Wanna go grab a bite or somethin’, Stevie? ‘M sure Ray’s daddy’s waitin’ for him.” He nodded over to the barber sweeping off his steps, getting ready to close for the evening. 

 

Ray gasped. “It’s already close to supper time?” 

 

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, we’ve been sitting here for quite some time. Maybe next time, if your dad’s okay with it, you can come upstairs. I’ll teach you some more stuff. That sound cool?” Ray nodded and moved to get up. Bucky hopped off his seat, reaching out to help Ray stand and walk down the steps carefully. 

 

“Hey, why don’t I give you a ride ‘cross the street? Don’t need you gettin’ any more injuries, now do we?” Ray giggled and nodded, practically jumping on Bucky’s back the second he turned around. 

 

“Bye Steve! See you later!” Steve waved back before he started to gather his things. Bucky quickly took the kid home, returning to Steve as soon as he could. 

 

The two walked up the steps, Steve huffing and puffing with each flight and Bucky praying Steve won’t collapse on him again. (He’s done that a couple of times this year alone - and it’s only February!) They were walking down the hall to their apartment when Steve said, “We don’t have much to cook. I’m goin’ to the grocer tomorrow on my break, didn’t get a chance to today. I don’t know what we can make.” 

 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Bucky said as they walked inside. “I was being serious, Stevie. I’m taking you out.” 

 

Steve set down his sketchbook that practically burst at the seams and sighed. “Buck, we can’t afford it and you-”

 

Bucky caught Steve’s face in his hands, pressing their lips together softly. “Stevie, it’s almost Valentine’s Day. I can’t take you out on the actual day, but dammit,” he cursed quietly, “I’d be a godawful boyfriend if I didn’t take you out. Just let me spoil you? Please? We aren’t even goin’ anywhere fancy, promise.” Bucky nudged their lips together, his nose bumping Steve’s gently. 

 

A small, pleased moan slipped past Steve’s bright red lips. “I gotta feelin’ I know where we’re goin’,” he mumbled into Bucky’s lips. 

 

The brunet pulled away with a smirk and nodded. “You bet. Good ol’ fashioned Brooklyn pizza and beer, ain’t nothing better. ‘Cept sex, sex is pretty good.” Steve laughed, loud and cheerful, and nodded as he wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck. “You don’t even have to change, can go as you are, and then we can come back and I’ll take all of those layers off.” He paused, lips pursed. “Maybe not all of ‘em. I like the way you look in my t-shirts,” he whispered. 

 

Steve blushed, burying his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck. “You noticed?” he mumbled. Bucky hummed and held him tighter. Steve kissed at the skin above Bucky’s collar and pulled back. “Let’s go before we get too comfortable.” 

 

The boys quickly made their way down to the pizza parlor a couple blocks away, where they spent a couple dimes on some pies and a few pints (Steve could only handle one before he felt too tipsy, Bucky managed two and a half before he decided to stop). When they walked back home and finally took off their hats, coats, and boots, Bucky gave Steve the best kiss he could muster the energy for. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” he whispered, their foreheads pressed together. 

 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Steve giggled. 

 

They kissed for a good half hour, lazy and loving - just the way they liked it - until Bucky suddenly remembered his gift. He pulled away, a goofy grin on his kiss-swollen lips. “Hang on, doll. I got you somethin’,” he whispered before he dashed into their bedroom. When Bucky came back, Steve had perched himself on the arm of the sofa, ready for whatever his boyfriend had prepared for him. 

Bucky handed him the present, his new sketchbook wrapped in old newspaper, with a shy, almost worried, smile on his face. Steve took it greedily, ripping apart the paper happily (it was the  _ Daily Bugle _ ’s paper and he’d grown to hate it, simply from having to look at it everyday). When he saw - and smelled - the fresh leather, he squealed. “Oh Buck, you didn’t!” He glanced up at Bucky with big, wholesome blue eyes filled to the brim with amazement and wonder,  _ and love. _

 

The brunet blushed, rubbing the back of his neck and bouncing on his heels. “Thought the old one was gettin’ too warn. You could use another and I saw it on my way to work one day. . . Couldn’t not buy it for ya,” Bucky explained softly. 

 

Steve flipped through the blank pages, his face filled with everything good in this world (and Bucky felt - and not for the first time - that he didn’t deserve this beautiful man). “It’s beautiful, Buck. Thank you so much,” he whispered as he leaned forward to kiss Bucky softly. 

 

“You are so welcome, babydoll.” Steve grinned and carefully set the new book down. He walked over to the bookshelf by the radio and pulled out a small, dusty book. “What’s that?” But Bucky didn’t need Steve to verbally answer to know what it was, not when Steve revealed the cover with a quick swipe of his hand to clear the dust away. It was one of Steve’s old books, but it wasn’t just some random sketchbook. No, this was Steve’s private book. The only book Bucky was never allowed to look into, no matter how much he poked and prodded. 

 

And Steve handed it to him.

 

Bucky’s eyes bulged out of his skull, jaw dropped and mouth hung wide open; he’d look like a fool to anyone else but Steve if they walked in right now. “You serious?” His voice was nothing but a gasp of air, hardly audible with all the noise coming in from outside. Steve nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets and ducking his head.

 

Bucky carefully opened the cover, not even trying to cover how giddy he was. For years he looked at this book and wondered what was inside, picturing the most obscure and silliest things Steve could draw in this little book. But it wasn’t silly, not one bit, as Bucky looked at it. 

 

Page after page of him. 

 

There were some pages of him and his siblings as kids, drawn well, but not with the finesse Steve had nowadays. Others were detailed and filled with every ounce of Steve’s pining for him. But each and every picture, each freckle and strand of hair was drawn with the same amount of care and emotion that Steve captured so damn well. 

 

Bucky wanted to cry it was so beautiful. 

 

“Stevie,” he started, but couldn’t finish. He simply closed the book and kissed Steve as delicate and passionately as Steve had drawn each of those portraits of him. 

They didn’t need words to describe the love they shared that day. They couldn’t describe it if they tried. There was too much emotion, too many feelings, for them to explain in words alone. It just wasn’t needed. They knew how much they other meant. 

 

And that’s all that matters.

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Steve was sick again. It wasn’t just a silly little cold he’d get over within the week. This was by far the worst case of pneumonia Steve had ever gotten. He was stuck in bed, sickly pale and hacking up his lungs with every cough. The doctor had come over, diagnosed him, and prescribed him something that Bucky couldn’t afford. 

 

He had to borrow money from his dad just to buy Steve’s medicine. God, he’d been so ashamed with himself. 

 

_ “James, what are you doing here?” George had asked him in a thick, sleepy voice, rubbing at his five o’clock shadow and tugging his robe closed.  _

 

_ Bucky swayed back and forth, his hands wringing themselves raw. He’d been sick on the way there from worrying all day and night about the skinny little blond curled up in their bed. His own eyes were bloodshot, still a little wet from crying on his way over (but he wouldn’t tell his father that). He probably looked awful and grimey, but he didn’t care. He just wanted Steve breathing. “I’m real sorry for wakin’ you an’ Ma up this late and just bargin’ in like this,” Bucky started to ramble - more like croak - as he tugged at his messy hair, “but Pops, you gotta help me.”  _

 

_ George’s bushy brows furrowed, but he ushered Bucky into the apartment anyways. “George, who is it?” Winifred called from the hallway, tugging her dressing robe tight around her waist.  _

 

_ “It’s James, dear,” he replied, his tone stern and controlled. He had a hand resting on Bucky’s shoulder, guiding him into the dining room so they could sit and have a cup of coffee. Winifred and George sat down in front of their son, concern etched into their wrinkled faces. “What’s the matter, son? What do you need help with? You’re not in some kind of trouble with the law-” _

 

_ Bucky cut him off by sitting up straighter and shaking his head, his nervous, worried energy radiating off him in waves. “No, no, nothing like that. It’s, um, money,” he admitted quietly. Bucky covered his face with one of his hands and took a deep breath. He was way too proud to ask for money from anyone - even Steve - but especially from his father. It was just something Bucky couldn’t do, something his father had instilled in him. (“A man takes care of himself, James. He doesn’t need anyone else to give him a handout. He takes care of his responsibilities and his family before himself and by himself. You understand?”) It was taking everything in him to admit that he needed help, that he couldn’t let Steve suffer like this. That’s why he had come over and asked for help.  _

_ “What’s going on, sweetie?” Winifred asked, taking one of Bucky’s hands in her own.  _

 

_ “It’s Stevie,” he croaked, “he’s real sick again and-and. . . Ma, we can’t afford it. I had to pay rent this week and Steve only worked half the week and they didn’t pay him his usual. Whatever he did have went to groceries, but we’re still a dollar and a nickel short.” Bucky was crying now and doing his best not to acknowledge the fact that he must have seemed like a wimp to his father. He was a grown man, just turned twenty-two, and he was bawling like a newborn baby because his goddamn boyfriend couldn’t stay healthy and he couldn’t provide for him like a real man should.  _

 

_ He felt so fucking useless.  _

 

_ George and Winifred shared a look before George stood, leaving the room without a word. Bucky broke, his sobs audible and violent as his shoulders shook with the force. Winifred rushed to her son’s side, pulling his head into her chest and holding him tight. “Shh, baby,” she cooed. “I’ve got you, sweetie. It’s gonna be okay. Steve’s gonna be just fine, I promise.” Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and held onto his mother as tight as he could without hurting her.  _

 

_ He let it all out. Every drop of worry and love and helplessness poured out of him, soaking his mother’s robe and nightgown until her skin was damp with his tears. He tried his best to keep his sobs down, to keep from waking Daisy or even Eugene (but Bucky was sure the kid wasn’t even home, and if he was he probably wouldn’t wake up for another day or two. Eugene could drink just as much as Bucky and Bucky knew the baseball team went out on nights post game - he remembers quite a few of them - to drink themselves silly).  _

 

_ But at the same time, he didn’t care. Bucky was selfish for a minute. He let himself wallow in misery and feel like a child again, crying in his mother’s arms. She made him feel safe and secure, like everything would turn out okay.  _

 

_ He really hoped she was right. _

 

_ George returned and pulled Bucky away from Winifred so he could look at him face-to-face. His face was coated in worry and he looked just as pained as Bucky did. He reached up his right hand, hard and dry from working his life away, and gently caressed Bucky’s wet cheek. His thumb wiped away a few stray tears as he held his son’s face in his hand. Then, he took his left hand and gently shoved something into Bucky’s hands. “This should cover the medicine. You go and you get that kid healthy.” Bucky looked up at him with wide, shocked eyes, his bottom lip trembling as another sob - this time of relief - threatened to escape. George continued in his steady, calming voice, “James, son, if you ever need help, you come to me. Your mother and I would do anything for you and your siblings. You know that. If you need some help, we’re right here. Don’t matter if you’re living here or in California. You understand?” _

 

_ “Yes sir,” Bucky mumbled, his voice hoarse and shaky. He looked down to his hands, his eyes growing even wider as his eyebrows popped up to his hairline. A crisp ten dollar bill was neatly folded in his hand. “Pops, this is too much. I can’t take this,” he tried as he pushed the money back into his father’s hand. _

 

_ George wasn’t having it. “No. You need help, this is what I’m offering. Now go, before the pharmacist closes.”  _

 

Which is why Bucky was applying to just about every place he could find. He applied at the grocer a couple doors down and at the barbershop across the street. He applied at the diner he and Steve were obsessed with just around the corner and the shoe-shining stand a block away. He even offered to babysit a couple of the kids he’d seen running around, just to get a couple of extra bucks. But no one would hire him, no one needed him.

 

That’s how Bucky ended up walking around Brooklyn with his hands in his pockets and a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was looking for extra work, something to help him and Steve out of this little rut they’d found themselves in. Yeah, the ten dollars had helped a lot, but after he bought Steve’s medicine and paid the month’s bills, he’d been left with a quarter. 

 

All he wanted to do was support Steve. To give him everything he deserves. . .

 

At the same time, Bucky felt a little bitter about the situation. He just wants to fufill his own dreams. He was supposed to make it in the big leagues, play on the Dodgers like he and Stevie had dreamed of when they were kids. He was supposed to be happy and carefree, where he could do whatever the hell he wanted to. He wasn’t supposed to be stuck working at the docks from dawn to dusk. He wasn’t supposed to be worrying about someone else twenty-four seven. He wasn’t supposed to feel so tied down already. 

 

He just wanted to be selfish, really selfish, for a moment.

 

So when he ended up in front of Goldie’s Boxing Gym, he didn’t think twice about walking inside. 

 

A man in long, loose shorts and a wife beater walked over to him. He had a boxy face, strong jaw and a big nose that was a little crooked. “Can I help you?” He asked, his voice gruff and his Brooklyn accent strong. 

 

“Need some extra cash. You need any help ‘round here?” Bucky asked, sticking out his right hand. “Name’s Bucky Barnes,” he told him.

  
“Elmer Greene,” the man said as he took Bucky’s hand. “That can’t be your real name, kid. And if it is, your parents really must’ve wanted to mess you up for life.” 

 

Bucky chuckled and shook his head. “No, real name is James Buchanan, but I go by Bucky.” 

 

Elmer nodded and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You ever thought about fightin’?” Bucky nodded eagerly, not even trying to hide it. Elmer chuckled and pursed his lips. “Tell you what, I just had a client quit and I could use someone to do my office work. Don’t got time to do it myself. I’ll train you if you do that for me. Then you can start fighting and get some extra cash, more than I could pay you. Sound good?” Bucky nodded. “Got time?” Bucky nodded again. Elmer guided him into a tiny office with papers stacked everywhere. 

 

Bucky got to work immediately.

 

When he got home, Bucky was all smiles and nurturing to little Stevie. “What’s got you so happy?” Steve grumbled as he laid his head in Bucky’s lap. They were sitting on the bed, Bucky against the headboard and his legs outstretched and Steve curled up beside him, arms around Bucky’s legs. 

 

“Got a second job, kinda,” Bucky told him quietly.

 

“Whatcha mean?” Steve sniffled.

 

“Went down to Goldie’s, see if they needed help. Been doin’ it all day, tryin’ to find somewhere to get extra work. Owner said he’d train me if I played secretary like some dame and then I could fight and earn us some real cash. Maybe then I can spoil you silly.” Bucky ran his fingers through Steve’s hair, biting his bottom lip as he felt the heat radiating off Steve’s forehead and scalp. 

 

“Don’t gotta do that, Buck,” Steve slurred.

 

“I know. But one day it’d be nice to be able to buy your medicine without worrying how we’re gonna eat for the next week,” Bucky grumbled a bit harsher than he intended.

 

Steve whimpered, nuzzling his face deeper into Bucky’s thigh. “‘M sorry, Buck,” the blond whispered. 

 

“I am, too, Stevie. Didn’t mean to be so harsh. I know you can’t help it.” Bucky leaned down to kiss at Steve’s hair, lingering with each feathery kiss. 

 

“You just like bein’ a jerk sometimes,” Steve mumbled, turning over to look up at his dark haired boyfriend. 

 

Bucky raised an eyebrow as Steve gave him a small, tired smile. “That’s what happens when I gotta deal with a punk like you.” Steve giggled just a little before his went into a coughing fit, sitting up and away from Bucky. The older man leaned with him, rubbing his back and coaching him through it. “Love you, you know that?” 

 

Steve nodded, still coughing. It was gross and wet and it haunted Bucky’s dreams. . . “You wouldn’t be here, if ya didn’t,” Steve mumbled in between coughs. 

 

“Damn right, I wouldn’t be.” 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Winifred threw open the door and let out a happy little squeal as she pulled both Steve and Bucky into her arms. “So glad you boys are here!” She kissed at both of their cheeks, leaving smudges of red lipstick on their blushing skin. 

 

“Missed you too, Ma,” Bucky mumbled as he rolled his eyes over her shoulder. Steve stuck his tongue out at him, happily hugging Winifred back with all he had. 

 

She let them go, smiled real wide, and brought them right back into her embrace. Winnie made another happy, content noise and swayed a little. Steve let his eyes flutter shut, perfectly fine with the comforting embrace Winifred was offering. She was the closest thing he had to a mother since Sarah had passed and Steve wasn’t afraid to admit he missed her warm hugs and soft singing voice. 

 

He’d take it any chance he could. 

 

Winifred finally let them go and held the door open a little wider. “Come in, come in. Food’s on the table, everyone’s here and ready to eat. We were just waitin’ on you two,” she explained as she ushered them in. Bucky rolled his eyes again and toed off his boots, Steve following his lead as if this was his first time at the Barnes’. 

 

“What’d you make?” Bucky asked as he took his and Steve’s shoes and sat them near the door. 

 

“Pork chops and veggies.” Steve and Bucky walked into the dining room, where Rebecca, her boyfriend Will, Eugene, his newest girlfriend Rita, George, and Daisy sat around the table. “Look who finally made it!” 

 

Everyone stood, greeting the two young men with handshakes and hugs. Daisy practically hung off Bucky’s arms, giggling as he carried her back to her seat. “Will you sit by me?” she asked him, eyes wide and her smile bright and missing teeth. 

 

“‘Course I will,” Bucky beamed as he plopped down on her right. 

 

“You too, Steve!” Daisy announced, pointing to the empty seat on her left. 

 

“Sure thing,” Steve said with a smile. They all sat back down, said grace, and started to dig into the meal Winifred had prepared for them. 

George cleared his throat from the head of the table, “You all hear about the war in Europe? Nazis invaded Poland the other day, heard it on the radio last night.” 

 

Will shook his head. “If they don’t stop that Hitler character, they’re going to try and invade us.” 

 

“We’re too powerful to invade,” Eugene commented. 

 

“That’s true,” Bucky mumbled as he reached for the glass of water his mother had gotten him. “Government spends enough on the military that no one’s gonna get the chance to invade.” 

 

Daisy leaned over, her eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. “What are they talking about?” she whispered to Steve.

 

He leaned down, cupped his hand around his mouth, and whispered, “Boring adult stuff.” Daisy smiled again, giggling as if they had just shared a secret before she went back to her food. Steve did the same, a small smile on his face as he shoveled food into his mouth. Bucky looked over and caught Steve’s eye, a proud smile on his own face. 

 

Steve always liked that smile better over the cocky smirk he usually wore in public. But Steve’s favorite was always the blissed smile Bucky had after hours of kissing and being together in the most intimate of things. The one only Steve ever really saw. 

 

As the dinner started to wind down, Becky got everyone’s attention. “I, well we,” she looked to Will with all the love anyone could ever have before returning to survey the table, “have an announcement.” Will took Becky’s left hand, showing off the small, silver ring that glittered against the soft lighting. Winifred gasped, dropping her fork onto her plate with a clash. “We’re getting married!” Becky giggled out. 

 

Winifred squealed and jumped from her seat to squish the happy couple in hugs. “Oh my goodness, I’m so happy for you both!” The Barnes’ family spent the rest of dinner gushing about the wedding, Rebecca and Will’s plans for the future and what they had planned. 

 

Bucky’s heart was close to shattering as he sat there with a big, fake smile. He was happy for his sister, yes, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t jealous. All he wanted in life was to walk into his parents house, his hand enveloped in Steve’s, and announce to his family that they were getting hitched. He’d do anything just to be able to hold Steve’s hand in public. . . 

 

But that was all fairytales, dreams that could never become real. The make believe stories he’d create in his head to fall asleep faster when Steve wasn’t curled up into his back. Instead, Bucky knew the harsh reality was simple. He’d have to find himself a girl and break it off with Steve for good. Or else he’d wind up in jail and Steve. . . Steve would probably get himself killed.

 

Winifred snapped Bucky out of his thoughts before they could drag him into a panic attack. “The real question is, why aren’t you two married yet? It’s about time you two found nice, pretty, young girls to settle down with. Start your little family.” She looked at the two boys expectantly, along with the rest of the room. 

 

Bucky laughed, only a touch of the bitterness he’s currently feeling seeping through. “Ma, I’m twenty-two. I still got a lifetime to settle down, but now’s the only time I got to do whatever I want to. I’m just enjoying my freedom, until I do find the right girl. Alright?” Winifred and George shared an exasperated look, but they didn’t comment on it any more.

 

Not even Steve noticed how touchy Bucky’s tone was. . .

 

Either way, Bucky felt like he needed to go out on another date. Find a girl and take her out a couple of times just to ease any suspicions people may have. “Be back later,” he told Steve on his way out the door. 

 

“Where you goin’?” Steve asked, scrambling up to stop him. “Thought we were goin’ to the pictures with Eugene and Daisy?” His usually bright smile was gone, his shoulders slumped as he gave Bucky the saddest pout he’d ever seen. 

 

Bucky groaned, his head hitting the doorframe in defeat before he turned to Steve fully. “I’m takin’ Jeanette out instead, you can still come if you want, but I couldn’t scrounge a date for you. Didn’t think you’d want to be around when I was kissin’ on some dame.” Bucky raised an eyebrow, daring Steve to challenge him. 

 

Steve scoffed and crossed his arms. “What so you thought it’d be easier not to tell me? What kind of bullshit is that, Buck?” 

 

Bucky shrugged and grabbed his coat. “Steve, not today please. Get jealous later, but now. I don’t have time to argue with you. I’ve gotta go,” Bucky tried.

 

“Go, then. Go run off with your gal and just abandon me at home.” Steve glared at Bucky, before he stormed off towards their bedroom with a slam of the door. 

 

Bucky left. He didn’t even try to defend himself. 

 

As he was leaving, an awful thought crossed his mind. Would pushing Steve away make leaving him easier?

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Bucky walked into the kitchen, his pants hung low and unbuttoned to reveal his boxers just a little without a shirt. He scratched lazily at his chest and yawned. Steve was cooking breakfast, frying a couple of eggs for them, dressed in his work clothes already. “Morning,” he chirped as Bucky wrapped his arms around his waist. The taller man nuzzled his face in the blond’s hair, pulling Steve back so he was flush against his chest. “Sleep well?” Steve asked him softly. 

 

A low, pleased hum vibrated through Bucky’s chest and throat, tickling Steve lightly. “Yeah,” he mumbled gruffly, “but missed wakin’ up with you.” 

 

Steve yawned and leaned back into Bucky. “Sorry, baby, had to get to work. But don’t worry, I’ll be home in time to go with you to Goldie’s.” 

 

Bucky kissed at Steve’s neck lightly, moving with him as Steve put the cooked eggs on plates. “Oh yeah? You gonna watch me train today? See me kick some ass?”

 

“Well, I’m not missin’ you winnin’ the championship, that’s for sure.” Bucky’s eyes widened, suddenly fully awake. Steve raised one eyebrow as he stood with his feet apart, arms crossed, and an amused smirk teasing his lips. “You forgot didn’t you?”

 

He didn’t say anything at first, but then, with a bashful smile, he shrugged. “What can I say? I’ve got more important things on my mind.” They both sat down at their little dining room set, their feet instantly hooking around each other until their ankles were crossed. 

 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

 

“What’s what?” Bucky asked smugly, with his mouth full. Steve swatted his free hand that wasn’t shoveling eggs into his mouth playfully before taking it in his own. 

 

“What’s more important than your championship match, Buck?” Steve bit his lip, already knowing where he was going with this.

 

The smile Bucky gave him was animalistic, wolfish to say the least. “Just our plans for tonight, how we’re gonna celebrate. ‘Cause even if I lose, I’m comin’ home with a prize that’s gotta be treasured.” 

 

Steve’s face was beat red and his bottom lip was tucked between his teeth. “What’s on the agenda?”

 

“It’s a secret. If I tell you now, you’ll never make it to work.” Bucky gave Steve a filthy wink and went back to eating.

 

With a reluctant but understanding nod, Steve finished eating quickly. “I’ve gotta get going,” he announced as he checked the clock near the door. 

 

Bucky took their dishes into the kitchen. “Fix your hair!” He called as Steve popped out of the apartment, presumably to the bathroom. Bucky started the dishes, humming a tune and swaying his hips. Steve walked back inside, shirt buttoned, suspenders on, and his pants ironed. HIs hair no longer stuck up in every which way (instead he’d styled it down). Steve spun around, arms out and moving slowly to show Bucky his outfit. Bucky nodded to himself, practically purring. “Much better.” 

 

Steve grinned and walked further into the kitchen. “I wish I didn’t have to work today. Why does the newspaper have to run on Saturdays anyway? They’re already running on Sundays,” Steve pouted.

“Yeah, but you can’t afford to miss another day.” Bucky moved to wrap his arms around Steve’s small frame again. 

 

Steve groaned and held Bucky’s waist tighter. “I can’t wait to get home already. Then you and I can get something to eat before we head out to Goldie’s.”

 

Bucky hummed again, a pleased little sound that made Steve’s heart skip a beat (more than it usually did). “Go, before you’re late and they fine you. Then you can bring your punk ass home.” Steve laughed and pulled away, hitting Bucky’s bare chest lightly. 

 

“Whatever, jerk,” Steve mumbled as he stood on his tip-toes to peck Bucky’s lips. “I love you,” he breathed, his hands moving to cup Bucky’s scruffy face. 

 

“I love you, too,” Bucky whispered. Then he pulled away and swatted at Steve’s ass. “See you later, baby,” he called as he started back to their bedroom.

 

“See ya jerk. Enjoy your sleep,” Steve playfully grumbled, “and shave!” he added as he headed to the door. Bucky flipped him off with a deep chuckle and disappeared into the room. 

 

Later that evening, Steve found himself sitting with Daisy in the stands at the gym Bucky trains at, Goldie’s. “When’s he gonna start?” Daisy whined. 

 

Steve looked up from his sketchbook, where he and Daisy were coloring a landscape of Coney Island Steve had done one night when Bucky had a date. “I dunno,” he started as he checked his watch, “should be soon. They’re still getting the ring cleaned up from the last fight.” 

 

Daisy huffed, but went back to coloring. “Do you think he’ll get hurt?”

 

Steve bit his lip, chewing on lightly. “Maybe. But I’ve seen Bucky fight. He’s strong and fast, so if he does get hit, he’ll bounce back and give ‘em a good hit right back,” Steve tried to explain, sort of reassuring himself more than he helped Daisy.

 

“But what if he doesn’t?”

 

“Has Bucky ever let something or someone stop him?” Steve asked her, shading in the shadows of the little people he’d drawn. Daisy shook her head and switched pencils. “Then have some faith in him. He’s gonna do great.”

 

“I hope he wins,” she added.

 

Steve sighed. “Me too. He deserves it.”

 

They colored for a moment, the bustling sound of the gym surrounding them. Then Daisy said Steve’s name, her head tilted and her pigtails swaying. He hummed, glancing up just a little. “How come you don’t have a girlfriend like Eugene?” 

 

Steve chuckled, his voice tight and strained rather than his usual lighthearted tone. “You sure are full of questions tonight.” 

 

Daisy shrugged. “I’m bored.” She switched pencils again. “You gonna answer my question? Or are you gonna be a baby?”

 

“Maybe,” Steve winked at her. She returned it with a sharp glare. “Okay,” Steve sighed, “I just don’t have one. Bucky gets the girls, I just the girls’ friends.” 

 

Daisy’s head was still tilted, but her eyebrows were furrowed now. “Why?”

 

“Girls don’t like to dance with someone they’ll step on, kid,” Steve explained with a sad smile. Then, as he caught sight of Bucky walking over to them in his boxing gear, he grinned. “Doesn’t matter. How can I have a girlfriend when I’ve got my best gal right here!” Daisy blushed and giggled, hiding her face behind her dark pigtails.

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Bucky said, hands in the hair, “back off Stevie. Daisy’s my best gal. Ain’t that right?” 

 

Daisy giggled and nodded. Steve gasped, putting on his best pout. “Daisy, how could you? I thought what we have was special?”

 

“It is!” she chirped. “I still love you, Steve.”

 

“But don’t you love me?” Bucky begged, laying his head on her lap. He was still standing, leaning against the bleachers Steve and Daisy were sitting on. He batted his eyelashes and stuck his bottom lip out, really overdoing it. 

 

“I love you both,” Daisy said.

 

“But who’s your favorite?” Bucky asked, eyebrows raised and ruby red lips twisted into a smirk. Steve couldn’t look away as the mischief in Bucky’s blue eyes sparked to life. 

 

Daisy’s own pretty blue eyes widened as she glanced back and forth between the two boys. “Puh-lease, we all know I’m her favorite,” Eugene announced as he, a couple of his baseball friends, and Rita walked over to the bleachers. 

 

Daisy scoffed, crossing her arms. “No, you’re not.” 

 

Eugene rolled his eyes and slapped a hand on Bucky’s bare shoulder. “Why is she even here? Don’t they have an age limit or something?” 

 

Daisy glared at him, her once giggling face now turned sour. “Bucky said I could come! I wanna see him win and I’m a big girl now.” 

 

“She’s fine,” Bucky told the tall teen. “Besides, nobody’s gonna try and mess with her. I’ll jump outta that ring faster than lightning if they even try.” Bucky’s voice dropped just a notch, giving Steve goosebumps. It was kind of scary how easily he fell into that protective mindset, but STeve couldn’t help but find him sexy. 

 

Eugene didn’t look convinced.

 

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, checking to see how much time he had left. “I gotta go soon, but I’ll tell you what. I’ll buy you and your friends a drink if that’ll ease your mind.” Eugene nodded and shook Bucky’s hand tightly. “Steve,” Bucky turned to the blond, “walk with me?” 

 

Steve hopped down from the bleachers, mumbling to Daisy that he’d be back. He maneuvered his way down the bleachers, trying his best not to step on someone. “Watch her,” he told Rita (the only responsible one out of the teens) who nodded and took a seat beside Daisy. 

 

When the two were finally alone, Steve whispered to Bucky, “Did I tell you how good those shorts look on you? Cause you look great.” Bucky grinned with that same, primitive smile he had earlier that day, glancing back at him. “Seriously, though, I have a good feeling about this fight.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Bucky smirked.

 

Steve nodded, brushing his fingers over Bucky’s shoulders as they squirmed their way through the crowd. “You’re gonna do great.” 

 

“I better. I’ve been doing this since I met your punk ass.” Steve laughed and punched his shoulder. Bucky rubbed his arm, chuckling. “Wouldn’t be as good as I am without you, punk,” he whispered.

 

“Can you say sappy?” Steve gagged and rolled his eyes. 

 

“I have my moments,” Bucky preened, “but you’re the one who gets all googly eyed over that type of shit,” he reminded. Steve flicked him off as they reached the bar. Bucky ordered the beers for Eugene and his friends as Elmer walked over.

 

“Ain’t time to celebrate yet, Barnes,” he grumbled.

 

“These ain’t for us,” Bucky retorted. “I gotta take these back with Steve, then I’ll be over. Promise.” Elmer glared, but agreed as he shuffled back to the corner Bucky would be fighting in. Bucky grabbed three of the beers and Steve grabbed the other three (one for each teen, except for Rita who didn’t want anything) and the two boys made their way back to the bleachers. “I’ll see you after.” Bucky gave Steve a small smile, stole a kiss from Daisy, and headed towards his corner. 

 

Once the fight started, it was quickly over and Bucky moved into the finals. Steve, Daisy, and Eugene’s gang cheered as loud as they could, jumping up and down when Bucky won a round or landed a good punch. “C’mon,” Steve said as Bucky sat down in the chair in his corner, “let’s go talk to Bucky.” Steve jumped off the bleachers and reached up to help Daisy jump down. Then the two rushed through the crowd, dodging people and chairs as they made their way to Bucky’s side of the ring. 

 

“Hey!” Bucky cheered, panting slightly, at the sight of the two. “What’d ya think?”

 

“That sure was quick,” Daisy chimed, crossing her arms on the ring and resting her chin on them. She was looking up at Bucky as if he was giving her the world and Steve couldn’t be happier to witness such a thing. 

 

Bucky chuckled, leaning over to talk to them better. “Ya think so?” She nodded her head quickly. “This next one won’t be as quick, I don’t think. You okay with that?”

 

“Yeah! I like watching you win!” Daisy giggled. Steve laughed, pressing himself against the ring to move out of the way for other patrons. “Steve and I cheered real loud for you, did ya hear us?” 

 

Bucky looked to Steve with a big smile before he returned his gaze to Daisy. “Sure did! You were cheering so loud, I doubt you’ll be able to talk for a week!” Daisy giggled again, hiding her face in her arms a bit. 

 

“You did real good, Buck. We’re proud of you,” Steve added. If Steve didn’t know Bucky (and his body) as well as he did, he probably would have assumed the slight reddening on his cheeks were from the exertion he had just put his body through. But Steve did know better and he couldn’t help but reciprocate the blush. “We just wanted to wish you luck on the ne-” Steve was cut off by a big, burly man bumping into him. Steve stumbled, falling hard onto the floor. 

 

“Watch where you’re standing, stupid queen. Damn fairies don’t know where they belong,” the man spat as he kept walking. 

 

Bucky jumped to his feet, eyes blazing and his gloved fists by his side. “You wanna try that again?” he called out, but the man either didn’t hear him or didn’t care. Bucky took a deep breath and squatted down to Steve and Daisy’s (she was standing on a platform) eye level. “Steve, you alright?”

 

“Yeah, just lost my balance s’all,” Steve whispered. He didn’t have to tell Bucky how shaken he felt, how awful his skin crawled at the word. They shared a look and Steve did his best to convey his emotions to Bucky without saying a word. 

 

The longer they stared, the harder it was for Bucky to control his anger. 

 

“Barnes, get ready,” Elmer called. Bucky huffed, standing up again.

 

“We’ll see you after the fight,” Steve told him. “Don’t do anything stupid. Good luck!” Daisy echoed the last two words and skipped along side Steve, completely unaware of what had happened right in front of her eyes. 

 

“Fighting for the welterweight championship,” the announcer started shortly after. Bucky zoned out. He was pissed. Elmer was trying to get him to calm down, to get his limbs all loose again to help him move easier, but Bucky couldn’t stop replaying those words in his head.  _ Stupid queen, _ the man had said. He called Steve a fairy. 

 

How dare he? 

 

And then Bucky’s eyes locked onto his opponent, the same man who thought he could get away with calling  _ his Stevie _ such ugly terms. The man was Bucky’s height, about six foot, and a little broader than him, with a full beard and hard, beady eyes. His blood was boiling. Bucky wanted nothing more than to knock his teeth out.

 

It was bad enough Bucky couldn’t publicly be with Steve, that they had to hide their love away like it was disgusting.  _ Because it is _ , a voice reminded him.  _ He’s your best friend and a man, you shouldn’t be in love with him like this. You shouldn’t be with him like this. You should be feeling the same way this man feels. . . _

 

The bell rang and Bucky bounced into action. He was ruthless, jabbing and punching every chance he got. The other man fought back just as hard, grunting whenever Bucky landed a particularly hard punch.

 

Granted, that was all of them. This man hurt his Steve, Bucky sure as hell wasn’t about to let him walk away without a few bruises. If he walked away at all. . .

 

Steve had only ever seen Bucky fight with that kind of passion in the alleyways whenever he defended Steve. He could practically see Bucky growling, throwing punch after punch at his opponent. Fighting as hard as he could, like he was a damn dog in a cage fight. Right up until Bucky landed the hardest right hook he’d ever thrown in his lifetime, knocking the man out instantly. 

 

He was too mad to even celebrate. 

 

Their little group went crazy, chanting Bucky’s name as loud as they could as they jumped up and down in their seats. Daisy was dancing, laughing and cheerful as opposed to Eugene’s hooting and hollering. Then they were all racing to get to Bucky, all of them tripping over one another to try to get to him first. 

 

Bucky was stuffing his stuff in his bag as soon as he got his trophy and prize money, throwing around half-assed goodbyes at anyone who tried to get him to stay and chat. He did humor his brother and his friends and did his best to sound lighthearted and excited. 

 

Steve wasn’t fooled. Instead he watched as Bucky pulled his little charade on everyone, including Daisy, with tired eyes. He didn’t say anything until he shut the door to their bedroom that night. “Buck, what happened back there?” 

 

Bucky grabbed at his hair, tugging harshly at the ends as he paced the length of their room. “He just made me so mad, Stevie. Who the fuck gave him the right to say that kinda shit to you? It sure as hell wasn’t me,” Bucky snapped. 

 

“Buck, it’s okay-”

 

“No, it ain’t Steve! It ain’t fucking fair!” Bucky roared as his arms flailed a little. 

 

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed, finally noticing how deep Bucky’s anger really went. “What’s wrong, Buck? What aren’t you telling me?”

 

Bucky groaned and bit down on his lip as hard as he could, breaking the skin. He licked at the blood and shook his head. Finally, he sighed, “It’s nothing Steve. Just drop it.” Bucky pushed past him to head into the kitchen. He didn’t even bother to say goodnight, or a simple ‘I love you’ like they always did. 

  
Steve had a bad feeling about what was coming up in the near future. . .


	14. 1940

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't edited. . . Enjoy :)

_ Chapter Twelve _

  
  


**1940**

 

“Think it’ll snow tonight?” Steve asked Bucky. The brunet looked up at the overcast sky and shrugged. “Becky’s real worried it will. Doesn’t help that it ain’t all that pretty out,” he added.

 

Bucky waved him off. “Then she can figure out a way to make it romantic and sappy. ‘M sure you can help with that.” He winked at the blond, bumping their shoulders a little. 

 

“You are so funny,” Steve deadpanned. “You’re the one who's always something sappy whenever we-” Steve shut up as soon as he caught sight of a man walking in their direction. He ducked his head and put a bit more space between him and Bucky like it was second nature. 

 

Bucky’s heart broke, because the truth of the matter was simple: it was second nature. No matter how many times they did this is it always hurt. They always had to be so careful. . . Bucky just wishes he didn’t have to do this. He wishes they could have a normal relationship like everybody else and not have to worry about someone seeing their knees touch or their hands linger. 

 

A teeny, tiny part of himself regretted ever falling for Steve. . . A bigger part of himself hated that part of him. 

 

When the man passed, Bucky gaze a small nod and waited before he nudged Steve again. But the mood had changed. The playfulness they had almost reached had vanished and an awkward, melancholy vibe settled between them. 

 

“We’re meeting the girls over there,” Bucky mumbled as they crossed the street and he pointed to a small diner. “Should already be there, then we can head to the church.” 

 

Steve nodded. “Sounds good. What’d you tell her ‘bout me this time?” He looked up at Bucky with a straight face, the silent traces of a smile peeking out. 

 

A grin stretched across Bucky’s face as he slung an arm over Steve’s shoulder. “Oh, the usual. How awful a roommate you are; how you’re constantly complaining about it being too cold, how you can never sit still. I even added in the fact that you like the smell of other guys’ pits.” A sharp laugh erupted out of Steve, as the blond shoved him away. 

 

“You’re the biggest jerk I’ve ever met, you know that?” Bucky stuck out his tongue and held open the door to the diner. 

 

“Gotta keep you in line some way, right?” Bucky winked at him and the two walked inside. 

 

A blonde and a redhead sat at the bar, swirling so their skirts swayed just a little. The blonde caught sight of them first, her face brightening and blushing as she waved them over. “Hiya Bucky,” she giggled. His grin grew just the slightest bit tighter, so slight only Steve (who knew Bucky’s body better than he did most of the time) noticed the change. 

 

“Hiya doll,” he kissed her cheek, “how’s my girl doin’ this fine evenin’?” 

 

“I’m just fine, thank you for asking.” Bucky turned to face Steve, a hand resting on the small of her back. 

 

“Ladies, this is my best friend Steve. Steve, this is Jeanette and,” Bucky paused, his eyes widening just a bit as he fumbled with his words.

 

The redhead rolled her eyes. “Maggie,” she deadpanned. 

 

“Maggie! Steve, this is Maggie!” Bucky echoed.

 

Steve gave a shy smile, sticking out his hand to shake. “Pleased to meet you,” he said. Jeanette took it hesitantly, but Maggie simply waved him off. He sighed, stuffing it back in his pocket. “We better get going, Buck. ‘Specially if you wanna see Becky before the wedding,” Steve reminded.

 

Bucky pointed at him. “Good call.” 

 

The four of them started to walk the few blocks down to the church the Barnes’ and the Proctors’ go to. Steve and Bucky were on the outside with the girls between them, well, Steve was supposed to be on the outside. He ended up being behind them as the girls drooled over Bucky.

 

He was fine with it, he really was, but sometimes. . . It really hurt his self-esteem. Yeah, sure, he was used to being the little guy no one noticed and he was used to being Bucky’s sidekick, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. 

 

But then Bucky would look back at him, dragging him into the story he was telling with a big, goofy grin, and all the pain would vanish. Because not everyone looked over Steve. Bucky always noticed him, no matter what.

 

“And then, the kid just sort of deflates!” Bucky guffawed. “He’d stuck newspapers in his shoes and they dissolved right out from under him!” Bucky reached back to slap a hand on Steve’s shoulder as the girls giggled along with him. Even Steve was chuckling at his own embarrassment as he tried to shove Bucky’s arm away. 

 

“C’mon Buck, that was one time!” Steve practically whined. 

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yeah, the one time I caught you,” he retorted. Steve opened his mouth to say something, but he was so flustered and embarrassed, he couldn’t think of anything to say. 

 

The good news, Maggie was starting to drift towards Steve. By the time they turned the corner, she was actually beside him. “Bucky told me you’re an artist. That true?” Steve blushed and nodded. “I’ve always thought being talented in any form of art,” she started as she took Steve’s arm, “showed the artist was more caring then they let on.” 

 

“You could say that,” Steve mumbled. 

 

“I’m sorry for how I acted earlier,” she whispered after a while. Steve shrugged, ready to wave off her apology before Maggie cut him off. “No, don’t say it’s okay. It’s not. I judged you before I gave you the chance, all because I was upset that Jeanette dragged me along on another blind date.” Maggie huffed and held onto Steve’s arm a little tighter. 

 

They were about the same height, probably close to the same build too, so Steve didn’t have to crane his neck up to look at her like he did with Bucky. Instead, he simply turned his head just the slightest and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “It’s okay. Really. Bucky’s always settin’ me up, thinks I don’t get out enough.” He shrugged his free shoulder and gave her a lopsided smile. 

 

Maggie looked over to him, a new appreciation in her eyes. “Steve, before we go any further,” she started but Steve held up his free hand.

  
“I get it. It’s just a night, I understand.” He still had a smile on his face, but it had taken a more subdued tone, with a ton of understanding that only came with practice. 

 

She shook her head. “It’s not that. I just wanted to warn you, I just got out of a pretty serious engagement. I’m still healing, which means I’m not looking for a relationship right now, but maybe you can change my mind?” She gave him a pretty smile, one that made Steve blush and look away. 

 

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

 

They kept walking, only a block away from the church. The four of the them juggled conversations, going back and forth between Bucky teasing Steve and vice versa to Jeanette and Maggie filling Bucky in on the latest gossip. (He’d never admit it, but he loved gossip and being in the know of everything, especially when it didn’t have anything to do with him.) 

 

That is, until they passed a bar where a group of rowdy men were loitering outside. Bucky looked back at Steve, his jaw set and his eyes hard. “Don’t,” he mouthed, “even think about starting something.” 

 

Steve rolled his eyes and held up his free hand. “I won’t,” he mouthed back. Bucky glared at him before he turned back to Jeanette, his shoulders a bit tense and squared off. 

 

Maggie raised an eyebrow at him, but she didn’t verbally ask what was going on. The truth is, Bucky knew Steve too well. If those men said anything that made Steve’s skin crawl, the small, skinny blond would go into Hero Mode until Bucky had to step in. Bucky really didn’t want to go to his little sister’s wedding with his face all bloody and bruised, much less Steve’s. 

 

Thing is, Steve can’t go a day without getting into a reckless fight. 

 

The men were loud, their laughter only getting more and more obnoxious as they got closer. Then the tallest man, a man with auburn hair and a pointed nose, whistled in their direction. “Will you look at that, boys,” he called as he blatantly stared at them - no, at the girls. “Think that pretty blonde would let me catch a peek under her dress?” The others laughed, hitting the auburn man’s back and shoulders as they guzzled down their beers.

 

“Have some respect,” Steve snapped, his fist already forming. Bucky sighed, his left hand pinched his temple, and he turned to Steve with a pointed glare. Steve bit his lip, but held Bucky’s stare. 

 

“What are you gonna do pipsqueak?” Another man challenged, his face pinched and his lips pursed. The two men started to walk a bit closer, abandoning their drinks and the rest of their party. 

 

“I won’t do anything, not unless I have to,” Steve said, his deep voice vibrating in his chest and resonating in the air. 

 

The tallest man laughed again and nudged his partner. “Kid thinks he’s tough, Sid,” he mumbled sarcastically.

 

Sid, the bald man with the pinched face, gave a dry chuckle and stepped forward. “I see that.” 

 

“You gonna do somethin’?” the first asked again. 

 

Bucky sighed, already rolling up his sleeves and cursing under his breath as he watched Steve take a step forward. “Do somethin’. I dare you.” Steve pushed up his sleeves and balled up his fists, his jaw clenched and nostrils flaring just a little. (Bucky would never, ever, admit it to Steve, but seeing him stand up for people no matter how big his opponent was, always made his heart skip a beat.) “All you are is talk. You talk up a big game and think you’re bigger and badder than the rest of us. Think you own everything and you don’t give a damn about others and how you treat them. You ain’t nothing but a coward-” Sid punched Steve square in the jaw, making him stumble a little. 

 

Then Steve threw all his body weight into a punch, one that actually hit the man in the jaw like he had intended (unlike some of his previous fights where he was too slow and uncoordinated). When the second man pulled his fist back, Bucky swooped in with a right hook of his own. The man’s nose busted, gushing blood as the auburn haired man stepped back. Bucky turned to Sid, giving a good uppercut before dragging Steve out of the line of fire.  

 

“I knew this was gonna happen,” Bucky grumbled as he tugged Steve along and guided the girls down the street.

 

“Are you guys okay?” Jeanette asked as she and Maggie tried to keep up with Bucky’s pace. 

 

Bucky nodded. “Oh we’re fine. Be even better if this punk knew when to open his goddamned mouth,” he huffed. He let Steve go and took Jeanette’s arm again as they rounded the corner, the bar out of sight and the church just up ahead. 

 

Steve rolled his eyes and rubbed at his jaw. “Not my fault he was being a dick!” 

 

“Yeah, but you said you wouldn’t start anything.” Bucky raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes squinting just a little in challenge. Steve huffed and tugged his sleeves back down. “Becky’s gonna be pissed. Here we are on her goddamn wedding day and we look like we just duked it out in the alley.” 

 

Maggie ran her hands over Steve’s hair, fixing the part and smoothing out the sides. “ _ You _ don’t look fresh out of a fight. Steve on the other hand,” she sighed. 

 

“I don’t look that bad, do I?” Steve asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

 

“Your jaw’s a bit swollen,” she admitted. 

 

Jeanette glanced back, arm still hooked on Bucky’s arm. “But I’m sure we can touch up the bruising. I might have a bit of powder you can borrow,” she tried to keep her voice upbeat and positive. “Then it’ll be our little secret.” 

 

“No,” Bucky said immediately, just as Steve gave her a meek ‘thank you’ as his head fell in shame. “That’s only gonna get his ass kicked. ‘Specially if someone finds out he’s wearing makeup,” Bucky grumbled. 

 

Steve pushed him forward a little, more to get his point across than anything. “Shut up. Ain’t like people are gonna be able to tell. ‘Sides, it might not even bruise all that bad. I might not even need makeup.” 

 

Bucky sighed and stopped just before the double doors to the church. “Lemme get a look at you, then.” He turned and grabbed Steve’s face gently. “You’ve had worse. But honestly, Becky’s gonna probably get all emotional. Seeing you with a big ass bruise on your face will bring back memories from the good ol’ days.” Bucky tried to grin, he really did, but his anger (and nerves, but again, he’d never admit that) was still getting the best of him. Steve noticed, his lips curling into a tiny smile at his boyfriend’s attempt to lighten the mood. It worked a lot better than Jeanette had. 

 

“Shut up, ya jerk.” Steve swatted his hands away and looked up at the church. “This is it. Ready to go see Becky get married?” 

 

The brunet followed his gaze as Jeanette returned to his side, her hand on his shoulder in a comforting way. “Yeah, guess so.” He gently took Jeanette’s hand off his shoulder and tucked in on his arm. With a big grin and a bit more pep in his step, Bucky guided the four of them through the double doors and into the church. 

 

It was chaos, the lobby filled with people making their way into the church or socializing as they waited for the wedding to start. Bucky looked around, trying to spot all of his immediate family. Winifred was fluttering back and forth between one place and another, popping in and out of conversations at the drop of a hat, George was talking with Will’s parents and brothers, Eugene and Allison (his new girlfriend) off to the side as they waited, talking amongst themselves. 

 

“Gonna go check in with Becky, let her know we’re here. Introduce the girls, yeah?” Bucky told Steve with a clap on his shoulder (no one but Bucky saw Steve stumble at the mere pressure the brunet placed on the small, twig-like man) before he ventured off to find the bridal suite. The night before at the rehearsal dinner, Becky had pitched a fit that Bucky had to come and sit with her while she got ready, claiming he was the only one - except for Will - who could calm her down. So she had shown him the little office the church had turned into a temporary bridal suite and demanded he come visit her first before anyone else. 

 

You could say a lot about Bucky, but he kept his word. 

 

He knocked on the closed door, a fond smile already on his face as he heard the familiar giggles of Becky’s best friends from high school through the door. “Who is it?” Wendy called. 

 

“It’s Bucky,” he said with a deep chuckle.

 

“This is an all-girl's room, James,” Wendy teased (she was always the gutsiest of the group), “therefore, no boys allowed.”  

 

“I’ve got orders to follow. Let me in, or else I’ll kick the door down,” he retorted with a cocky smile. A shrill of laughter erupted behind the door before it suddenly swung open. Three hands grabbed at his shirt, tugging him inside. He stumbled forward, his eyebrows raising with just enough arrogance that it made all the girls swoon, he’d mastered after all these years. “Was that so hard?” 

 

Wendy rolled her eyes and threw a brush at him. “Shut up, Barnes.” 

 

Bucky took a quick glance at the room, all of their dresses and supplies strewn out as the girls got ready for the big day. In the corner, in front of a full length mirror, was Becky in a beautiful lace wedding dress that looked like Winifred had hand-made (knowing his mother, Bucky wouldn’t be surprised). 

 

In that moment, as his breath was stolen from his lungs, Bucky finally understood why Steve hated those damn asthma attacks so much. 

 

“Damn, Beck,” Bucky said in a breathless whisper as he maneuvered over to stand behind her. “You look stunning, doll.” 

 

She looked at him through the mirror, her makeup all done and her hair up in ringlets that framed her face. The apples of her cheeks darkened just a little, only accenting her features in the process. “You have to say that, you’re my brother.” 

 

Bucky made a face in the mirror, moving her hair to button up the last few buttons of her dress she couldn’t reach. “Like hell I do. ‘Member that time you tried to go to school in that god awful dress you made out of Pa’s old shirt? Do you not remember me bitching at you for hours until you finally changed into something that looked somewhat decent?” 

 

Becky laughed, all airy and made of sugar. “I do remember that. You’ve always been better at style, though. I don’t see how you put up with Steve, not when he has zero sense of style.” 

 

“I pick his clothes out,” Bucky winked at her. He leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “In all seriousness, you’re gorgeous. Will is one lucky man.” 

 

She beamed at him and turned to face him properly. “You really think so? It’s not too much lace is it?”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “Kinda too late to change that, don’t you think?” She nodded, her shoulders deflating a little as she turned to look in the mirror again. “Rebecca, you look great. That dress is amazing on you, you’ll make everyone speechless the second you open those big double doors. Got it?” She nodded and he took her hand. “Real proud of you, kid. You finally found a guy I don’t completely hate.” 

 

“Thanks, Buck, it means a lot,” she whispered as she embraced him gently. He held her tight, squeezing her close for a bit longer than usual. Becky lifted her head from where she had momentarily rested it on his shoulder and leaned in closer, so her next words would be kept between them. “Is it okay that I’m nervous? That part of me wants to run?”  

 

Bucky made a small noise of agreement, running a soothing hand up and down her back. “You’re making a big decision. After tonight, you won’t be able to just break it off and be done. I think it’s okay to be a bit anxious over it all. The future’s daunting in general, but making a lifetime commitment is scary as hell,” he whispered just as quietly. “I’m nervous for you.” 

 

That got a small laugh out of the bride as she pulled away. She gave him a watery smile, blinking as quick as she could. “You really think I can do this?”

 

“Absolutely,” he breathed out. 

 

Becky nodded and pressed a light kiss on Bucky’s cheek. “Thanks for being the best big brother I could ever ask for. And not just for me, for Eugene and Daisy, too.” 

 

Now it was Bucky’s turn to tear up. He looked away and smiled, his teeth biting into his bottom lip shyly. “That means a lot, Beck. Thank you.” He hugged her again before he pulled away and took a step back. “You ladies sure do look swell. Good luck out there. We can’t have any bridesmaids falling on their faces, ya hear me?” The other girls waved him off, making little comments here and there as he started towards the door. “You’re gonna do fine, alright?” Becky gave another nod as she slipped her shoes on. 

 

“Love you!” She called after him. 

 

“Love you too.” Bucky grinned and shut the door behind him. 

 

Any nerves that Becky had evaporated the second the ceremony started as she stood there with a big smile and her dainty hands shaking just a little in excitement. Bucky sat with Jeanette on one side and Steve on the other, and if either noticed his quiet sniffles and how fast he was blinking, they didn’t say a word. 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

“Wanna go to Rockaway?” Bucky asked as they hauled up the groceries for the week. 

 

Steve bit his lip, arms struggling to get a good grip on the bags he was holding. “Why not? We haven’t been to Rockaway in a while, sounds like fun. Just two things,” he glanced back at Bucky who was effortlessly taking the stairs two at a time behind him, “what happened to goin’ dancin’ and how do you plan on gettin’ us there and back?” 

 

Bucky shrugged. He didn’t say anything as they walked down the hall to their apartment or while Steve fumbled with the keys and the bags. He waited until they were inside and unloading their bags to say something. “Well,” Bucky started, “I’ve got some extra money from the last match I won and frankly, Steve, I don’t think either of us can handle another night on the town for a while. Not after what happened last weekend.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “I didn’t drink  _ that _ much.”

 

A sharp, sarcastic laugh broke through the comfortable silence that followed Steve’s statement. “Stevie, you always know how to make me laugh,” Bucky laughed. “The bullshit you say sometimes,” he shook his head. “What would your mother say?”

 

A crumpled up bag was thrown at Bucky’s head with terrible aim. Bucky ducked away anyways as Steve laughed. “Shut up ya jerk!” 

 

Bucky shook his head, a brilliant grin plastered on his face. “Seriously, though. You drank your body weight - which, albeit isn’t that much-,” Steve threw another bag and laughed, “and tried to fight a cop that looked at me wrong.” 

 

Steve blushed and looked away. “Yeah, okay,” he chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “Let’s never let me do that again.” 

 

“Agreed.” They shook hands, their right hands clasped tightly. Steve moved to pull away after a moment, but Bucky wouldn’t let his hand go. Instead he pulled him closer and brought his left hand up to rest on Steve’s cheek as he guided their lips together. 

 

A pleased hum vibrated against Bucky’s chest as Steve pressed forward, making him smirk into the kiss. “Love you,” Steve mumbled.

 

“Love you, too.” Then Steve was pulling away, a gentle smile on his face. Bucky tried to move with him, making Steve giggle just a little. He pressed another kiss, a bit more chaste than before, to Bucky’s lips. “Guess that means we gotta get ready, huh?” 

 

“You bet,” Steve stated. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.” 

 

The two boys soon found themselves walking down the boardwalk at Rockaway Beach, the sun setting behind them. They walked slowly, taking their time as they looked at all the different stores and games the boardwalk had in store. 

 

“We should get something to eat. We haven’t eaten since lunch and that was hours ago,” Steve said as they bumped shoulders for the hundredth time. 

 

Bucky gave him a knowing smile. “Steve, we ain’t buying hot dogs. They’re expensive as all get out. ‘Sides, I doubt we’ll be out that long.” 

 

Steve shrugged and nodded. They continued on their walk, stopping along one of the rails to overlook the water. Bucky ended up smoking a cigarette. “You as bored as I am?” He asked, taking a drag and blowing the smoke away from Steve’s face. 

 

“Buck, we’re broke. You didn’t expect them to just let us do whatever ‘cause we walked up and said ‘hi’ to the nicest looking person.” Steve bumped his shoulder again, glancing over at the man through his peripherals. 

 

The sight he saw was gorgeous, every artist’s dream. There stood Bucky, casually leaning against the rail with his elbows and a cigarette hanging from his lips. His face was passive and calm, his eyes just a little squinted from exhaustion and his lips pursed just so. Steve’s hands itched to touch him, to feel the light coat of stubble that had settled on Bucky’s cheeks, to run his fingertips over every edge, and all he wanted to do in that moment was kiss every patch of skin he could. He settled for the opportunity to commit every detail to memory (not that he really needed to. . . Steve could draw Bucky’s entire body from memory with his eyes closed and Bucky across the country if he really wanted to.) 

 

A small smirk traced Bucky’s pink lips. “Can feel you starin’ punk,” he rasped quietly. 

 

Steve’s face burned with embarrassment as his head fell. He glanced back up, bangs falling in front of his eyes, and gave Bucky a small smile. “Can’t help myself sometimes. You should be a model,” he whispered as quietly as he could.

 

“Shut up.” Bucky threw the cigarette away and blew a ring of smoke over their heads. The two boys watched as the smoke swirled and twirled up into the darkening sky. “C’mon, let’s go see what trouble we can get into with four bucks.” 

 

The pushed themselves off the railings and started down the boardwalk. Bucky surveyed the scene, trying to find something that could entertain them at a low cost. That’s when Bucky caught sight of the games along one side of the boardwalk. He nudged Steve’s shoulder and nodded, his eyes sparkling with delight. 

 

Steve rolled his eyes, but followed the taller man nonetheless. “Buck, these games are rigged and you know it. You ain’t gonna win anything.”

 

“Steve, pal, quit being a drag. Just wanna try my luck, see where it gets me. Hell, maybe I’ll win something for Daisy when she comes to stay the night next weekend,” Bucky said as he dug around in his pocket for a nickel. But before Bucky could hand the man the coin, a group of girls about their age popped up in front of them. “Ladies first,” he grinned and moved out the way with a motion of his hand. Steve rolled his eyes as the three girls (two brunettes and a redhead) giggled into their palms before starting the game. 

 

The redhead, who was sending Bucky a cute little smile, went first. The man behind the counter, a big man with a bushy beard and slicked back hair, straightened up as she approached the booth. “Dolores, ready to give it a go?” he asked with a knowing smile. She nodded, her hair bouncing just a little in the tight victory rolls she had fixed it in.

 

“Yes sir,” she chirped. “Think I’ll get it this time.”  

 

The man’s smile warmed. “Alright, rules are simple. Get all three rings on the milk bottles and you get yourself a teddy bear. Miss one and the game’s over,” the man explained as he exchanged the shiny nickel she gave him for the rings. The girl took them gently, stepped back a little, and tossed them one-by-one into the box where the bottles sat. The first one hit the first bottle, richoteching it’s way around the neck, the second one bounced off, missing it completely. The girl sighed, a small pout on her ruby red lips, and handed the man the ring back. “Good try, little lady.” 

 

“Thanks again, Carl,” she said with a sigh. 

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll try and keep the bear out of anybody’s hands,” the man told her as she and her friends started to venture off. 

 

Bucky glanced at Steve and they both shared a knowing look. There will never be a day when one - or both - of them can go without playing hero.  . .

 

“Hang on!” Bucky called, reaching to grab the girl’s wrist. “Where you runnin’ off to so fast?” 

 

The girls turned around, the brunettes biting their plump bottom lips as the redhead (Dolores, was it?) blushed and stumbled with her words. “We gotta go meet my folks,” she finally managed to say. 

 

Bucky nodded and stuck out his hand. “The name’s Bucky Barnes,” he took her hand gently and gave it a quick pump before he reached over to grab Steve by the shoulder, “and this is my best pal Steve.” The blond waved awkwardly, stumbling forward a little as Bucky pulled him up. “We couldn't help but notice that sweet little pout you got there,” he said slowly, exaggerating his Brooklyn draw to the best of his abilities. He gave a long, low whistle and add, “It’s a real shame. No dame as pretty as you should go walkin’ ‘round with a pout on lips as pretty as yours. Anything I can do to cheer you up? Get a real genuine smile on that mug of yours?” 

 

She blushed, the apples of her cheeks darkening to match her bright red hair. “Well, if you wanna try and win me that bear over there, that might work,” she pointed to the teddy bear the man in the booth had hanging in the corner. “Been trying all year to win it, but I just can’t throw the rings well enough.” 

 

“Lemme try, maybe I can help you out.” Bucky paid the man, listened to the rules, and took the rings before he turned to the girls. “I didn’t quite catch your names, sweetheart.” 

 

The redhead blushed again and told him her name was Dolores (he had overheard the man call her that, but it was always nice to hear it straight from the person themselves) and her friends were Mary and Helen. Bucky nodded and gave her a wink before he tossed the first ring. 

 

With a swoosh, the ring soar through the air and landed just along the neck of the bottle. Bucky’s smirk grew wider as he threw the second one, the ring spinning around the bottle’s neck as fast as it could. And then he threw the third and all six of them watched as the wing spun in the air and hit the edge of the bottle. It landed just beside it. 

 

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed. “Huh.” He dug around in his pocket, paid the man, and restarted, promising Dolores he’d win her that bear. 

 

“You don’t have to, Bucky,” she said with a cute little sigh.

 

“Dot, you’re breaking my concentration,” he said with a wink as he tossed the first one. 

 

A dollar later and he was still trying to get the rings on those damned milk bottles. “Buck, I’m gonna grab us some hot dogs. They aren’t as bad as they were, price wise, and we’ve got enough money to get us home with some left over. Lemme treat the girls to hot dogs, yeah?” Bucky nodded and waved Steve off as he focused completely on the target at hand. 

 

He was still trying his hardest by the time Steve returned with seven hotdogs (two for Bucky, two for Steve, and one for each of the girls). Steve gave everyone their hotdogs and settled down to watch Bucky’s frustration as the third ring refused to find it’s way on the bottle’s neck. 

 

“Bucky,” Dolores tried, “you don’t have to keep trying. It means a lot that you did - are - but you don’t have to keep going.” 

 

The brunet gave her a small, tight smile. “Dot, sweetheart, I’m winning you that bear. Okay?” He raised an eyebrow and winked. She laughed and nodded, hands held in surrender. 

 

Steve rolled his eyes and wiped his face with the back of his hand. “C’mon Buck, you got this,” he tried. Steve clapped his hands a few times as Bucky threw the first two rings. 

 

Bucky blew two more dollars before he decided to call it a night. “Last one,” he told his little crowd (and himself). “If I don’t get you this bear, Dot, I’ll make it up to you. Promise.” With that, he spun on his heel and threw the first ring. 

 

It was a perfect shot. 

 

Then he threw the second.

 

It almost didn’t make it, but the ring spun just enough for it to fall effortlessly onto the neck of the bottle.

 

And then, Bucky took a deep breath and threw the last ring. 

 

It landed almost perfectly onto the third bottle. 

 

Dolores screamed and clapped her hands as Steve and Bucky cheered, their eyes glued to the final ring still spinning on the bottle. 

 

“Will you look at that,” the man in the booth said with a grin, “looks like you finally won that bear after all, Dolores! And only after this fella blew three bucks to win it.” 

 

Bucky blushed and shrugged, his hands finding their way into his pockets. Steve nudged Bucky’s shoulder and smiled as big as he could. Dolores, the big teddy bear clutched in her grasp, squealed again as she held it tight to her chest. “Thank you so much, Bucky!” She leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek, a lipstick stain imprinted perfectly on his face. “Don’t know how I’ll ever repay you,” she giggled.

 

“Let me take you out dancin’ next weekend,” he said automatically. (Neither of the boys commented on how tight their chests got when those words were said, no matter how easy it was to pretend they weren’t together. . .)

 

Dolores turned to glance at her friends, both of which were giggling behind their hands again, before she nodded with a big grin. “I’d love that.” She kissed his cheek again and told him her address. 

 

“Until then,” Bucky reached and grabbed her hand, bringing it up to kiss the back of it gently. Her green eyes were bright and big as she turned away with her friends, their giggles blending into the noise around them. 

 

Steve turned to Bucky, his hands in his pocket. “Buck?” he said with a sigh.

 

“Yeah, Steve?”

 

“You do realize we don’t have any more money on us, right?” 

 

Bucky turned to Steve with scared wide eyes. “What? How?”

 

“You just blew three bucks on a game and I bought us hot dogs! That adds up to be $3.95, which only leaves us five cents to get home. Unless one of us is walking, we gotta find a different way to get back to Brooklyn.” Bucky sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Steve pushed him lightly and the two started to walk back towards the end of the boardwalk. 

 

They walked in silence, both of their brains working in overdrive to figure something out. And then Bucky heard the low rumble of a truck just a few feet away. Bucky recognized the logo from a few blocks away from their apartment. He turned and found his way to the street, where a freezer truck was sitting on the curb. Bucky motioned for Steve to follow as he walked up to the man standing beside it. “How can I help you today?” the man asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

 

Bucky explained their prediment and laid on as much charm as he could muster. Then, once the driver finally gave in, the two boys climbed into the back of the truck. 

 

He had to hold Steve to keep him from freezing too much. Steve didn’t mind. It was nice to be wrapped up in Bucky’s warmth after an enjoyable, but long day.

#  ~*~*~*~*~

“That’s the last of it,” Frederick’s boisterous voice boomed over the dock. Bucky sighed with relief, his shoulders falling as he sat down on one of the empty crates. He lifted his cap, ran a hand through his hair, and plopped it back on as Frederick and Milton sat on either side of him. 

 

“That was rough,” Milton admitted as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. 

 

“Damn right it was. This ain’t no easy job, Milt. You should know that. I warned you damn near a hundred times not to come searchin’ for a job here if you couldn’t handle the labor,” Frederick reminded him. 

 

Frederick and Milton were cousins, practically brothers. Frederick was older by about six years and Milton had just dropped out of school the year before at the ripe age of sixteen. Bucky had met Frederick a couple of years ago, when he first started to work at the docks, and he was the only guy Bucky could stand to work with for more than a few minutes. Everyone else just got under his skin, making nasty jokes about their wives and girlfriends or teasing the weakest link until the kid was close to tears. 

 

Bucky claimed it was Steve’s righteousness rubbing off on him, but he didn’t mind. Steve was ten times the man he was and it showed with every bully he took down, whether he won or not. 

 

Milton waved him off and turned to Bucky. “What’s the matter, Barnes? Did your dame dump your sorry ass?” Bucky flicked him off and rolled his eyes. “Then why the long face?” 

 

“Been a long ass day, s’all,” Bucky mumbled. 

 

Frederick clasped a hand over Bucky’s shoulder, “We should go out. The three of us and whoever else can escape their wives and mothers. Whatcha think?”

 

“I’m all in,” Milton said with a shrug.

 

Bucky thought for a moment, watching the other dock workers bumble about as they waited for the next workload to pull up. “Yeah, why the hell not. Been too long since I went out with you boys,” he finally said. 

 

“Good. Meet at the usual place ‘round eight?” Bucky nodded and then an older man was calling them all in as a huge boat pulled into the dock. “Here we go again,” Frederick groaned as he stood up. Milton and Bucky followed his lead and the three returned to work.

 

A couple of hours later, Bucky was seated around a booth with a couple of his work friends. There was beer everywhere, laughter, and the rambunctious voices of eight grown, drunk, men. “Then she took me by the hand,” a man named Lewis explained, “took me straight into her daddy’s bedroom, and we did it right on his bed.” Cheers and wolf-whistled erupted as his story settled in. 

 

“Bold move, Smith,” Oscar, another worker, said with a low whistle. He paused, hiccuped, and proceeded to ask, “That ain’t the time you knocked her up was it?” 

 

Lewis waved him off. “Nah, that was when we first met. Did that the night I asked for her hand.” He gave a wink and another round of cheers started. 

 

Bucky watched and sipped at his beer with a cocky, amused smile. 

 

Most weekends, he’d spend his free time with Steve or the girl he picked up that week (or even that day). It wasn’t usual that he went out with his ‘friends’ but it was times like this, when they were sharing girl stories and gossiping like a group of teenaged girls that he wondered why he didn’t tag along more often. 

 

By the time Bucky remembered, he was hammered. 

 

“You boys hear about that murder that happened last week?” Frank asked, his words slurred and slow. 

 

“The one in them new buildings on the south side of Brooklyn?” Frederick asked between hiccups. “Wha’ ‘bout them?” 

 

Frank downed his beer before answering, a little sway in his movements. “My father-in-law, he’s the cop that checked it out, said the vic-” he burped and practically giggled, “victims were a couple of fairies. Some little queen and a big ass man.” 

 

“Serves them right,” Nelson grumbled. “What they do,” he pointed a finger at the table, “is wrong and illegal. Men shouldn’t be with men,” he spat. A grumble of agreement filled the table, along with disgusted faces and small nods from every single one of them.

 

Including Bucky.

 

He was disgusted with himself. Partially for agreeing with them, because it’s not like they knew what it was really like to be with a man, but mostly because he agreed. He didn’t agree to blend in, rather because he believed the same thing. 

 

Bucky downed the rest of is beer and grabbed another (was it his third? Fourth? Fifth?) when a bag was dropped in the middle of the table, along with a couple more beers. “Look what I found,” Harold said with a mischievous grin. 

 

All eyes watched as he opened the little baggie to reveal the white powder that haunted Bucky’s veins.    
  


He was never addicted, he hadn’t used it enough yet to get addicted. But he couldn’t deny how much he loved the high it gave him, how he itched for a fix every now and then (especially when money was really tight or things were just rough), how he longed to just get away for a couple of hours like the drug allowed. 

 

Maybe it was the discussion? Maybe it was the atmosphere or the peer pressure? Maybe it was the haunting thoughts that lingered in his alcohol soaked brain that made him want to be sick? 

 

Either way, Bucky was one of the first to reach for the bag and get a couple of lines going. 

 

That night, Bucky didn’t go home. He stayed with some girl he met the night before (he didn’t remember her name, nor what they did the previous night). Steve was pissed when he got home, but he didn’t hound him for too long. Instead, he made him lay in bed and helped him through his hangover (and coming down from the cocaine he’d sniffed the night before, but Steve didn’t need to know he was high still).

 

Steve held him all day as Bucky’s side effects kicked in (depression, anxiety, paranoia, etc.) and made sure he had everything he needed.

 

It was times like this that Bucky realized how little he deserved Steve.

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Steve was panting by the time he finished hauling the stack of papers into the lobby of the bank. It didn’t help that the bike the paper leased him was getting harder to push, something with the pedals getting stuck every now and then. Steve didn’t want to complain, though, in case they’d take it away from him and force him to walk again. 

 

He carried the stack to the center of the lobby, his designated spot that the bank manager  allowed him to sell his papers at (he’d taken pity on the sickly boy one particularly brisk fall morning). Then he sold the papers, delivering them to daily clients like the tellers and the security, before he settled into his spot again. He’d already completed his neighborhood routes about an hour prior, but selling the papers in businesses and street corners earned him extra money that Steve would be an idiot to refuse. Not like he has anything else to do anyways.

 

“Papers! Get your mornin’ paper for only a nickel! Fresh from The Daily Bugle and right in your hands. It’s New York’s finest daily paper, and it’s yours for just a nickel!” Steve shoute over the bustle of the lobby. 

 

A man in a suit took two, even gave Steve an extra nickel as a tip. Then a couple of others came and went, taking their papers and leaving a nickel in their wake. Until a familiar face popped into his peripherals. “Professor Montgomery! Long time no see, how are you?” Steve asked with a big smile and a little bounce on the heels of his feet. 

“I’m doing well, Steve. Thank you for asking. What about you? Are you still painting?” The older man asked, his right hand reaching up to smooth his already slicked back salt-n-pepper hair. 

 

Steve blushed and shook his head. “Can’t afford the canvases and my paints are all dried up by now. I sketch still, just about everyday really.” 

 

The professor gave Steve a warm smile as he pulled out a couple of coins. “That’s a shame. You’ve got a real talent there, Steve. You should be encouraging it, enhancing it.” He handed him a nickel and Steve handed him a paper. 

 

“Thank you sir,” he mumbled with his face getting redder by the second, “I really miss it. Your class was challenging, but it was fun. It makes me really regret dropping out like I did.” 

 

That caused the professor to frown, the wrinkles and creases of his face showing his age just a little. “I thought you quit?” 

 

Steve shrugged. “Didn’t want to, but I couldn’t find a flexible job and I couldn’t afford not to work. It’s bad enough my roommate was helping pay for my tuition, I couldn’t let him pay for the apartment by himself too. So I dropped out. But it’s okay, I’m happy and I haven’t stopped completely, like I said. It ain’t too bad.” 

 

“That’s what I like to hear. You’re a good man, Steve. A real good man.” The professor raised the paper in thanks, a fond smile brightening his face once again. He started to walk away, but then he stopped and spun around so fast his coat swirled around him for a moment like a big poofy ball gown on a dancing young girl. “Classes start back next week. I’m getting older and could use some help with the basic stuff, gathering supplies and helping students with the assignments. It’d have to be someone who could work odd hours, but I wouldn’t hold him to it. You see,” the professor took a step forward, “they upped my class size and the number of my classes since they fired Professor Desson. Could use the help. Know anybody?”

 

Steve fumbled with the papers as he stepped forward. “You mean that?” 

 

A small chuckle passed through the professor as he nodded, tucked the paper under his left arm, and stuck out his right hand. “Whatcha say, Rogers? Think you can be my assistant? You can come by the school when you get off. My classes usually start at ten, but you don’t have to be at each one. I’ve been looking for quite some time now, trying to find the perfect man or woman to help me, so the school’s prepared to pay you. Does that sound alright?” 

 

“Yes sir! Thank you!” Steve took the man’s hand and pumped it a few energetic times. 

 

The professor beamed down at him and gave another definite nod. “Then I shall see you Monday afternoon, yes?” Steve nodded again. “Until then, Mr. Rogers.”

 

When Steve got off work, he rushed home (and only had to stop three times to catch his breath). He spent at least an hour doing little chores, waiting as patiently as he could for Bucky to get home so he could share the news. When he didn’t have anything else to do, he plopped himself down on the couch with his colored pencils and got to work on a sketch he’d been working on. 

 

Bucky walked in a bit later, yawning and grumbled with every move. “Evenin’ Stevie,” he said through a yawn as he toed off his shoes. He shuffled into the living room, rubbing at his five o’clock shadow (he didn’t have time to shave this morning). “It’s real good to see you, doll. Been a long ass day. How was yours?” 

 

Steve gave a nonchalant shrug and a small smile, his teeth biting into his bottom lip just enough to hide how big he really wanted to smile. “It wasn’t too bad. Same as everyday, really. Well,” he paused, “‘cept for the whole runnin’ into my old art professor.”

 

“Oh yeah? How’d that go? He chew you out for not turning an assignment in on time?” Bucky winked at him from the hallway where he was currently taking off his work clothes, leaving him in nothing but his undershirt and boxers. “Or did he try and reprimand you for your shirt not being tucked in evenly?” 

 

With a roll of his eyes, Steve shook his head. “No, it was pleasant and very mature,” he stated. “Hell, he even offered me a job as his assistant.” Steve let his grin show as Bucky came barreling over to him, jumping over the back of the couch and onto the cushion beside him, his body in a weird crouch. 

 

“What? Baby, that’s amazing! Did you take it? What are your hours? You gonna quit at the paper? What does it pay? Damn Stevie, look at you!” Bucky rambled, smacking Steve’s bicep as the younger man put his book aside and turned to face him. 

 

Steve laughed and pushed Bucky away slightly. “Course I took it! I go in after I get off my route and I start on Monday. Didn’t say how much they’ll pay me, but it’ll be enough I’m sure.” 

 

Bucky shook his head and gave an amazed little breath of a laugh before he surged forward and captured Steve’s lips with his. “So proud of you, baby doll,” he mumbled against him as he leaned forward, a knee dropping beside Steve’s thigh. Then he pulled away and grinned. “We should go celebrate. ‘M sure if we leave now we can grab a couple of pies and a pint of beer, maybe we’ll catch the game!” 

 

He was already up and in the bedroom before Steve could get enough air in his weak lungs to reply. Instead, he followed his lead and freshened up so they could go celebrate his new job. 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Autumn quickly fell into winter, leaving the air thin and cold. September turned to October with the boys’ transitioning their schedule to accommodate Steve’s new job. Then came November, where a pregnant Rebecca hosted Thanksgiving in her new apartment much to Winifred’s dismay. And slowly, December creeped up on them with the promise of what looked to be a White Christmas. 

 

But after a stressful week of shortened hours on Bucky’s part and an asthma attack on Steve’s, they both decided they should have a simple Friday night at home, complete with an abundant amount of blankets, the radio playing music from a local jazz band until the nightly installment of their favorite show came on, and warm mugs of hot cocoa. They had already eaten, a warm meal of chicken noodle soup (Steve was just getting over a cold), and were settled in on the couch for the rest of the night. 

 

Bucky was leaning against the arm of the sofa, legs outstretched and arms wrapped tightly around Steve’s torso. The smaller man had his back against Bucky’s chest, his knees propped up and his sketchbook in his lap. They were both covered in about three blankets, Steve’s feet in at least four pairs of socks (two of which may or may not have been Bucky’s), and every part of their bodies pressed against each other to the best of their abilities. 

 

“This is nice,” Bucky mumbled against the shell of Steve’s ear, his lips grazing the smooth skin lightly. “‘Could live in this moment forever.”

 

Steve hummed, leaning his head back and letting his eyes flutter shut. “I can get behind an idea like that.” He turned his head a little to face Buck and press soft kisses against the older man’s jaw. “You know, I missed you today at work.” 

 

Bucky moved one of his hands from around Steve’s hips up to run up the length of Steve’s torso. His rough hands and long fingers made their way up to trace Steve’s jaw until his index finger was under Steve’s chin. Bucky gently guided Steve’s lips to his, kissing softly, but with a silent desperation (as if he were saying goodbye soon, but needed to enjoy the last few, precious moments with his sweetheart). 

 

“I ever told you, you’re a real good kisser?” Steve mumbled as he pulled away to lean against him again. 

 

A hum vibrated in Bucky’s chest, making Steve smile softly. “No,” Bucky replied huskily, “but I’d love to hear why.” He kissed behind Steve’s ear again, his arms tightening their grip.

 

And then there was someone knocking at their door. 

 

They sprang apart as quick as they could, tripping over themselves and their countless blankets in the process. Then, once both of them looked less frazzled, Bucky calmly answered the door to find Mrs. Kovac from a few doors down waiting patiently. “Good evening, Mrs. Kovac. What can I do for you today?” 

 

She gave him a small, tired smile and pointed to the end of the hallway. “You have a phone call,” she said in a thick European accent.

 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Phone call? Is it my Ma?” The woman shrugged and turned back to walk to her apartment. “Thank you for telling me, have a nice night,” Bucky called after the woman as he grabbed his shoes (he hated leaving the apartment without his shoes). He heard her mumble something that sounded mean, but knowing her thick accent and tired demeanor was probably polite. 

 

“What’s going on?” Steve asked. 

 

“Phone call. Gonna run down and see who it is. Be back.” Bucky rushed down the hallway until he reached the stairs where a phone hung beside the stairs. The building had purchased a phone for each level, with everyone pitching in to pay for it. It was a hell of a lot cheaper than paying for phones for each apartment. . . He took the phone and pressed it against his ear. “Hello? James Barnes speaking.” 

 

“Bucky? It’s Daisy,” the little girl said through the phone. 

 

Bucky straightened up, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips turned into a frown. “Daisy? What’s wrong?” 

 

“Mommy said to call you and tell you Becky’s having the baby! She sent me out the room so I could call you and everything! You gotta come over! Becky wants you!” Daisy was practically shouting down the phone, to the point Bucky had to pull the phone away from his ear. 

 

“Okay, okay. Tell Mommy Steve and I are on our way, okay? I’ll see you in a few minutes, okay?” Bucky bit his lip and ran his fingers through his hair. 

 

“Okay, bye Bucky! Love you!”

 

“Love you, too, kid.” The light went dead and Bucky hung up the phone. Steve was waiting in the doorway, his own eyebrows furrowed and his forehead wrinkled in confusion. He was wrapped up in one of their blankets with his hair sticking up a little. “Becky’s having the baby,” Bucky explained as he got a little closer to his boyfriend.

 

Steve’s eyebrows practically shot up to his hairline. “Now? She’s not due for another month?” 

 

Bucky shrugged and moved past him to pull his coat on. “I guess. Daisy was on the line so if we want any information, we better get down to Ma’s. C’mon.” He dragged Steve into the house and waited until the other man was dressed and ready to leave before he made his way back down the hall.

 

The walk down to his parents was easy and well walked, something the two of them could have done in their sleep if they wanted. They walked quickly and quietly against the brisk wind, their shoulders hunched and hands stuffed in their pockets. Bucky didn’t even bother knocking when he walked into his parent’s house. 

 

“Bucky’s here!” Daisy called upon seeing her older brother. She rushed over to tackle him into a hug. “Missed you, Bucky,” she whispered against his ear. 

 

“Missed you too, squirt.” He kissed her head and let her go. She tackled Steve as soon as she let go, grinning widely as he hugged her tight. “Where’s M-” a sharp scream of frustration came from his parents’ bedroom. “Nevermind,” he mumbled. 

 

Bucky made his way into the house, leaving Steve and Daisy behind, and into his parents’ bedroom (this time, he knocked). “Bucky, thank god you’re here!” Winifred cried as he entered the room. 

 

Becky was on the bed, a blanket draped over her lap. Her hair was a mess and her body flushed as she panted and cried into Will’s chest. The man was sitting beside her, holding her hand and whispering in her ear; he, too, looked awful. Winifred was sitting on the other edge of the bed, out of the way of the midwife but still close enough to Becky for comfort. 

 

“Sorry it took me so long. We couldn’t run too fast,” Bucky said quietly. “How ya feelin’, Becks?” 

 

She lifted her head to glare at him. “You try havin’ a baby and tell me how you feel, you lucky son of a bitch,” she hissed. And then she was letting out a ragged scream as she clutched her abdomen. 

 

Bucky stood awkwardly by the door, not sure where he needed to be. Winifred noticed and walked over to give him a bone crushing hug. “Thank you for coming. Your sister won’t let me leave the room and your father is at work, which leaves no one to watch Daisy. I was hoping you and Steve could watch her? Keep her company? Eugene should be back in a bit, he ran to get some baby stuff from Becky’s place.” Bucky nodded and kissed his mother’s cheek. “Thank you sweetheart.” 

 

The next few hours flew by in a blur. Steve and Daisy drew and colored until Daisy got bored and asked if they could play a game of Monopoly. By then, Eugene had returned and George came home from work and the two joined the game. George won the first round, Steve the second, and Daisy was winning the third when Winifred stepped out of the bedroom to announce the baby had been born. 

 

They all poured into the bedroom and surrounded the bed, where Becky cradled a little, crying bundle close to her chest. She was beaming - exhausted but beaming - as angled her arms to show the newborn off. “Her name’s Rose Marie Proctor,” Becky whispered and the baby started to calm down enough for the family to catch a glimpse of her red face. 

 

It was a confusion of passing the baby around for the next few moments, with everyone begging to hold the tiny infant next (especially Daisy, who had never actually held a baby before, but was excited to be an aunt). 

 

Bucky took the baby carefully when it was his turn. “Hi there, Rose,” he cooed. “Aren’t you a pretty lil’ thing. Bet you’ll look just like your mama, but if you do get stuck with your dad’s ugly mug-” a shout of protest came from Will, followed by a tired chuckle of defeat, “-then we’ll still love you.” Bucky held her close, watching as her big hazel eyes blinked up at him without any sort of focus. 

 

“You’re an uncle now,” Steve whispered over his shoulder. 

 

“I am,” Bucky practically sighed. It was nice holding such a small baby in his arms, felt comfortable and relaxing. He wasn’t going to lie, it made him want a baby to hold of his own. But with that thought, came the brutal truth that one day he’d have to break up with Steve if he ever wanted a family to call his own. . . 

 

Becky yawned. “You know Steve,” she said quietly as she settled back against Will, “you’re like my brother, which means you’re practically Rose’s uncle. I think you’ve earned the title.” 

 

Steve froze, his mouth open just a little. “Really?” he gasped. Becky and Will exchanged a blissful look and nodded at the blond. “Thank you both, that means a lot.” Steve’s voice was so genuinely happy and surprised that it had Bucky grinning like a fool. 

 

“Well,  _ Uncle Steve _ , you wanna hold your niece before we gotta leave? It’s gettin’ late.” Steve nodded and the two transferred the baby into Steve’s arms. 

 

And from the look on Steve’s face, Bucky knew just how much Steve wanted a baby, too. “Hi there,” Steve whispered to the infant. She looked so big in Steve’s arms, but so tiny in Bucky’s. “There ain’t no denying you’re apart of the Barnes’ family. Already got the nose and everything,” he cooed. 

 

Bucky watched the two interact as his brain went into overdrive. It didn’t matter if Steve and Bucky were eventually going to break up. Until then, they could get their baby fix from having Rose over. 

  
Bucky wasn’t going to end his happily ever after. Not yet, anyways. 


	15. 1941

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being so patient!! This isn't edited, btw. 
> 
> Enjoy - J xxx

_ Chapter Thirteen _

  
  


**1941**

 

Bucky walked into the kitchen, spread out his arms, and did a little spin to show off his clean outfit. “Do I have your approval?” 

 

Steve rolled his eyes and snapped the towel in his hands at Bucky’s thigh with a smack. The brunet laughed and grabbed at the towel, pulling Steve closer to him. “You look fine. Much better than before-,” Steve’s face his face fell and he physically deflated. “I thought you took that mask off.” 

 

“Someone’s got jokes,” Bucky chuckled and slapped Steve’s ass playfully. “You’ve still got flour in your hair.” 

 

Steve groaned and pulled away. “Unlike you, I haven’t gotten the chance to change yet,” Steve pushed on his chest a little, an amused smile on brightening his face. He moved around Bucky, grabbed the casserole dish, and carried it to the table. 

 

Bucky snatched the cutlery from the counter and followed after him. “Then go change, I can handle this.” 

 

With a sigh, Steve nodded which caused a cascade of flour to trickle down his face. He playfully glared at Bucky as the latter let out a bark of laughter. Steve trudged out of the room and into their bedroom, not even bothering to close the door fully behind him. Bucky continued to set the table, a small, happy smile on his face. 

 

Things were good right now. He was somewhat happy with his life, but at the same time Bucky was real sad. And somehow, he knew Steve was to blame for both. 

 

Bucky was in love with Steve, to the point he wanted to cry and scream at anyone who ever thought differently. Steve was his world, his everything, the only thing that gets him up in the morning.

 

Bucky loves him. 

 

Yet. . . Every day hurts. Every day he’s forced to hide how he feels, to hide himself. Every day Bucky’s forced to realize he’s a day closer to losing him. It makes him sick that sooner or later, he’ll have to sit Steve down and break his heart. . . 

 

Because if he didn’t, someone would find out. Someone would try and kill Steve, or worse. They could succeed. And then he’d probably die, or kill himself if he’s quite honest. There wasn’t a world Bucky wanted to live in, not without his Stevie. 

 

He swallowed the lump in his throat. There wasn’t a point in ruining his - or Steve’s - good mood because he couldn’t stop thinking negatively. Bucky blinked away his tears and finished setting the table.

 

“Think I need a new shirt. These all have stains or holes in them,” Steve mumbled as he buttoned up his dress shirt.

 

“We can see about getting a few new ones. I think I could use a few too. ‘S been awhile since we got any new clothes,” he mumbled. Bucky started to take the other dishes he and Steve had made earlier (which may or may not have caused the flour attack to occur. . .) and put them on the table as Steve finished primping in the mirror hanging on the wall. 

 

“Daisy coming over for the weekend or just tonight?” Steve called. 

 

Bucky sighed and smoothed his shirt down. “She’s coming over for the weekend. Ma’s dropping her off, but she can’t stay. You still okay with that?”

 

Steve turned to give Bucky a strange look. “No, I’m not okay with your younger sister - that I adore - staying with us for a weekend,” he deadpanned. 

 

“Okay, okay,” Bucky raised his hands in defense, his easy going nature returning gradually. “She’ll be here a little after Mark and Victor get here. Already talked to them, let ‘em know she’d be here.” 

 

And then, as if they had heard their names, Mark and Victor knocked on the door. Without waiting for either of the boys, the older couple waltzed into the apartment. “Good evening, boys! How are you both?” Mark announced. 

 

Bucky and Steve both made their way to greet the couple with hearty handshakes and big grins. “We’ve been great and you?” Steve replied as he pumped Mark’s hand a few times. 

 

Soon all four of them were seated around the living room, discussing the neighborhood changes and their work until Winifred dropped Daisy off. The ten year old skipped into the apartment, beaming as she swung her little bag beside her. “Hiya Bucky!” She greeted, running into his arms with the most contagious giggles. 

 

“Daisy! I’ve missed you, squirt,” Bucky teased as he planted a big, loud kiss on her cheek. She giggled and squirmed out of his grasp to give Steve a hug just as tight as the one she gave Bucky. 

 

“Hiya Steve!” Steve grinned and kissed her forehead before he returned the hug with matched enthusiasm. 

 

Bucky cleared his throat and motioned to the men sitting on the couch beside him. “Daisy, these are our friends Mark and Victor. Gentlemen, I’d like to introduce to you my best gal, Daisy.” The little girl bounced on her heels at the title and gave a big curtsy, lifting her skirt just a little and everything. 

 

Victor stuck out his hand, “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Daisy. We’ve heard a lot about you.” She took his hand, gave a few exaggerated pumps, and then took Mark’s to repeat the process. 

 

“You hungry?” Steve asked her. She nodded and smiled, showing off her mismatched teeth. And then the five of them were huddled around the dinner table, helping themselves to the meal Bucky and Steve made that afternoon. 

 

Mark raised his glass to the two. “Delicious,” he said after he swallowed his mouthful. “You always seem to impress, every damn time.”

 

Steve blushed, his whole body slowly turning a bright shade of pink. Bucky chuckled and knocked his knee against Steve’s. “It was a joint effort. We had fun and it’s good. All that matters, yeah?” 

 

It was closer to the end of the meal, after the table quieted down after a boisterous laughter fit from a story Victor told about his youth, when the conversation turned serious. Daisy was asked about her schooling, about what she wanted to do in the future, and what she liked to do, to which she answered them all with a certain cockiness and determination only a Barnes would have. (She was one of the best students in her class, she wanted to be a nurse, and she liked to play jump rope with her friends.) Then, Mark cleared his throat and asked, “You boys following the war over in Europe?” 

 

Bucky looked down at his plate and sighed. “Yeah, I’ve read up on it in the papers.”

 

“That Hitler character needs to be stopped.” Steve shook his head and sipped at his glass of water. “They’ve let him go too far already.” 

 

“Agreed. There ain’t no tellin’ what’ll happen next,” Victor grumbled. 

 

There was soft pause, where no one really knew what to say. Steve’s head was down as he played with the last few bites of casserole on his plate. Think it’ll reach us?” 

 

“Don’t know. If we haven’t gotten involved already, I doubt we will,” Bucky replied, his tone full of false reassurance. He glanced around the table, at the gloomy faces of his adult company shared to the curious, innocent face of his younger sister. “You know, Daisy,” he started with that certain playful tone he’d mastered, “Steve and I made cookies for after dinner. If you’re done, I don’t see why you couldn’t have a few.” 

 

The little girl squealed and raced into the kitchen, leaving behind her plate and the adults. “She’s something else,” Victor said fondly. 

 

Bucky nodded, a proud grin plastered on his face. “You bet she is.” 

 

The night soon drifted away from them with Mark and Victor leaving around nine thirty. Bucky fixed up the bedroom for Daisy to sleep in while she stepped into the bathroom out in the hall to get ready for bed. Steve cleaned up the kitchen quickly before Daisy was ready to be tucked in, which meant both boys had to make sure she was wrapped in the blankets nice and toasty. They both kissed her cheeks, fluffed her pillow, and left the room with a whisper of “goodnight.” 

 

“C’mon, Stevie. We might as well head to bed, too.” Bucky grabbed a couple of blankets and started for the couch. Steve grabbed two pillows and followed, a yawn falling from his lips silently. They curled up on the couch, one of them at either end in case Daisy woke up before them, and snuggled into the makeshift bed. 

 

After a while, Bucky sat up after a while, moving his foot to motion Steve to mimic his actions. “Today was great,” he whispered as he took Steve’s hand. It was dark, but the moonlight seeped in from between their curtains, illuminating Steve in just the right way. “How did I ever get so lucky?”   
  
Steve shrugged and reached forward to kiss Bucky softly. “Dunno. Maybe I just took pity on ya,” he murmured against Bucky’s chapped lips. 

 

Bucky chuckled and grabbed the back of Steve’s neck, keeping him in place as he kissed him senselessly.

 

And then, there was a sharp gasp, far too soft and feminine to be from either of them. Eyes shot open, jaws slack as they jerked apart and stared at the small, barely light figure of Daisy. She stood there dressed in her nightgown with her own mouth agape, a blanket carelessly draped across her shoulders. 

 

“Daisy,” Bucky started, already moving to console the child.

 

“Why were you and Steve kissin’, Bucky?” She asked innocently as she hugged the blanket tighter around her shoulders. 

 

Bucky glanced at a sheepish looking Steve, not really sure what to tell her. He knelt down to her eye level and took a deep breath. “Because,” he said slowly, “I. . . Daisy, Steve and I, we love each other. Not like you love Eugene or Becky, but like Mommy loves Daddy.” 

Her eyes widened, but she looked curious now, rather than shocked. “Are you two getting married? Like Becky and Will did?”

 

“No, sweetpea.” Bucky rubbed at his neck and took Daisy’s hand. “It’s not exactly okay for us to love each other. Daisy, I need you to do me a big favor and not tell anyone.  _ Anyone _ . Not Mommy and Daddy, not Becky or Eugene, not even your friends. No one can know, okay?”

 

“Why?”

 

Steve stood up, wrapped himself in a blanket, and shuffled over to the Barnes’ siblings. “Because, if someone finds out, something really bad could happen to your brother and I. So bad we may never see you again.” 

 

Daisy shook her head and lunged at Bucky, her little arms wrapping around his neck tightly. “I don’t wanna not see you guys,” she cried. Bucky was almost in tears himself as he held her tight, his world crashing around him. At least, that’s what it felt like. Steve put a hand on his shoulder with a shaky breath. Bucky glanced up and noticed he looked just as scared as he felt. Daisy pulled away after a while and nodded. “I won’t tell no one.” 

 

Bucky gave her a weak smile and nodded. “Thank you, sweetie. That means a lot to us.” He kissed her nose and hugged her tight again. “Now, why were you up?” 

 

She pulled away and looked down with a sheepish smile. “Your room makes creepy noises. I don’t like them. Can I sleep with you guys?” 

 

Steve nodded. “‘Course you can. C’mon, let’s go to bed.” He took her hand and the two shuffled into the bedroom, leaving Bucky on the ground speechless. 

 

They all climbed into bed eventually. Daisy fell asleep in no time, curled up between them with a rhythm of soft snores that ended up soothing Steve to sleep. Bucky stayed up, staring mindlessly at the cracked ceiling (he counted ceiling cracks rather than sheep. . . He still couldn’t decide if that was pathetic or creative) and let his mind wander.

 

Daisy knew. She may not comprehend it completely, but she  _ knew _ . She had seen him kissing Steve and he had told her he loved him.

 

Could he trust her? What was going to happen? Would she tell their parents? Or would she keep her word and keep the secret? 

 

He didn’t know. . . And that scared him. 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

“This is the best day ever,” Bucky practically giggled as he tied his shoes. Steve grinned at him from his spot near the door. “I got a good feeling about this, sugar. Did you catch the game yesterday? The guys at the docks were listenin’ and it was beautiful! Beautiful!” 

 

Steve rolled his eyes but his smile didn’t falter. “Well we’ll be stuck listenin’ in if you don’t get your ass out the door!” Bucky winked up at him and stood. Steve stepped forward and kissed him before he opened the door and the two sauntered out. 

 

It was no secret that Steve and Bucky, two Brooklyn born best friends, would be Dodgers fans. It wasn’t just a loyalty to their home, either. Their passion was far more than just your average fan. Every year, every season, the boys would find themselves either standing among the crowd at Ebbets Field or listening in on the radio broadcasts, cheering on no matter what. They were there through wins and losses and loved every second in between.

 

“There’s no better way to spend a Sunday,” Bucky said wistfully, hands in his pocket and his body relaxed in an easy lean. 

 

“Couldn’t agree more.” The boys made their way down to Ebbets, their feet pounding against the pavement on a worn path they’ve taken hundreds of times. “Think our seats will be good?” 

 

Bucky shrugged. “Seats are always good. ‘S the experience that matters.” 

 

Steve rolled his eyes and shoved him lightly. “You’re such a cheesy sentimental person. I don’t see why people aren’t calling you out on it.” Bucky shoved him back, chuckling as Steve stumbled along a little.

 

When they walked into the stadium, it was like returning home. The smell of hot dogs, the crowds of people, the laughter and shouts of the attendees and employees. . . Everything was beautiful in their eyes. Steve and Bucky made their way down to their seats, beers in one hand and hot dogs in the other, just as the pre-game ceremonies started. 

 

“This is the life,” Bucky groaned as he leaned back in his seat once the game started. “We got good seats, beer’s good, hot dogs are cooked to perfections, the Dodgers are gonna kick ass, and,” he leaned closer to Steve slightly (he faked like he was putting his wallet away or something), “I got your pretty ass sittin’ beside me.” He sat up, a smirk laced on his lips. “What more could I ask for?” He raised his beer, eyebrows raised expectantly. 

 

Steve rolled his eyes, but clinked his beer with Bucky’s. “Glad you’re happy. Now will you shut up and watch the game? Wyatt’s taking the mound.” 

 

The boys were engrossed with the game, their eyes glued and their mouths occupied with heckling, shouting, cheering, eating, and drinking. “So glad I took the day off,” Bucky mumbled between sips of his beer. 

 

“Me too,” Steve said distractedly. “C’mon, that was in bounds!” He yelled, his small body lifting off the seat just a little. Bucky hid his grin behind his beer. He couldn’t help but think,  _ How did I get so lucky? Punk’s got me wrapped around his damn pinky. . .  _

 

By the sixth inning, the boys were getting frustrated. “How the hell did they get ahead?” Steve grumbled. Both of them were on the edge of their seats, hands templed in front of their faces as the watched with rapt attention. 

 

“We got the whole inning to pull ahead. We got this.” Bucky reached over and patted his shoulder, reassuring them both with his words. Steve nodded and took a deep, shaky breath. The boys watched as Lee Grissom threw the first couple of pitches to Joe Vosmik, who ended up walking until Pete Coscarart took his place at the first plate. Then the pitchers switched and Ike Pearson took the mound. “Kinda glad Grissom’s not on the team anymore.”

 

Steve shrugged. “He’s a good pitcher, yeah. But we’ll survive.” 

 

With Pearson pitching, Joe Medwick landed himself on first and pushed Coscarart took second. Then Mickey Owen pushed them both another base with his bunt groundout and Dixie Walker earned a place on first base. Pee Wee Reese brought Coscarart home, sending Medwick and Walker to third and second. Herman ended up walking and the bases were filled. 

 

“Bring ‘em home, Reiser!” Bucky yelled, clapping as loud as he could with the rest of the crowd. 

 

Reiser stood at home plate, bat in hand. On the first pitch, he lets it pass him; strike. The next pitch, he leans in and swings, but it’s a line drive. The Dodgers’ manager looks ready to wave Medwick in, but they wait. 

 

And then, Pete Reiser hits an in the park grand slam. 

 

Steve and Bucky shoot up, eyes wide and jaws dropped as Medwick, Walker, Herman, and Reiser all cross the home plate. Bucky laughed and grabbed Steve by the shoulders, shaking him lightly as they both processed the play. 

 

“That was the best damn play I’ve ever seen!” Steve gasped with a little bounce to his words. 

 

“I knew we’d win! I just knew! Ain’t no way the Phillies can beat us now, not after that.” Bucky plopped back into his seat and ran a hand through his hair, still in a daze of amazement. “An in the park grand slam. . . Impressive,” he whispered. Steve sat back down and let out a big breath. “This is something you only experience once in a lifetime,” Bucky continued. “I don’t ever wanna forget this game.”

 

Steve chuckled. “I don’t think we can.” 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Steve woke up to soft kisses peppering his face and the scratch of Bucky’s scruff rubbing against his own scruffed cheek. “Morning,” he breathed, eyes still closed with a lazy smile.

 

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Bucky mumbled against Steve’s jaw.

 

Steve was about to ask why Bucky was kissing him awake, until he remembered what day it was.

 

_ June 24, 1941 _

 

Today marked their sixth anniversary. Six years of Steve calling Bucky his and vice versa. Six years of lazy kissing and lingering touches. Six years of blatant “I love you”s to subtle “till the end of the line”s. 

 

And Steve couldn’t be happier.

 

“Happy anniversary,” Steve whispered as he peeled his eyes open. Bucky was leaning over him, their hips almost aligned and their legs intertwined. Thanks to the sweltering heat wave, they were both in nothing but their boxers, so Bucky’s chest was pressed against Steve’s as close as they could get. Bucky’s arms were planted on either side of Steve’s head, trapping Steve beneath Bucky and  _ he loved it _ . 

 

Bucky grinned and swooped down to kiss him properly. “Happy anniversary,” he said between gasps of breath and frenzied kisses. Steve whined as he pulled away, his swollen lips pursed in a pout. Bucky chuckled and kissed Steve’s nose a couple of times. “Love you so much, Stevie. So much it hurts,” he whispered. 

 

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck and pulled him into a deeper kiss. 

 

It was moments like this where Steve couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. He couldn’t imagine loving another person. Couldn’t imagine losing Bucky. . .

 

And Steve was certain he wouldn’t.

 

“C’mon punk,” Bucky panted. He lifted one of his hands to lightly brush Steve’s bangs out the way, his hand lingering as he spoke, “Let’s get ready. I took the day off. ‘M takin’ you out for breakfast then we’re gonna hang out at the pictures. Then we’re gonna snag us a pizza before we head to Goldie’s for my match where you’ll cheer me on and I’ll win us some cash. Then, when the match is over, we’ll come back here and climb up onto the roof. Maybe if the night’s clear enough we’ll see a star or two.” Bucky pecked his lips once more and stood, taking the sheet with him.

 

“Really?” Steve asked, completely awake already with a bright smile and big, excited eyes.

 

Bucky chuckled as he slid into his pants. “Yeah, Stevie. Now get your ass up before I change my mind and leave you.” He tossed a shirt at the blond still sprawled out on the bed. Steve laughed, the shirt falling onto his face. He plucked the shirt off him, crawled out of bed, and started to get ready. All with a big grin plastered on his face. 

 

They had a nice breakfast together, their ankles hooked under the table where no one could see. Then they walked the few extra blocks to the pictures. The boys sat close, maybe a bit too close, and their arms were practically glued together where they rest on the armrest between them. In between showings, Bucky and Steve would wander into the lobby and flirt with a couple of gals. (Steve felt sick to his stomach watching the girl Bucky was with drape across him as she flirted back with him. It didn’t help that he was too shy to put a whole lot of effort into flirting with the girl standing next to him. He knew he had to, just to keep up appearances and play the part of eligible bachelor.) Then they were back in the dark theater, pressed against each other as close as they could.

 

“You okay?” Bucky whispered as Steve squirmed in his seat a little.

 

Steve nodded, his bangs falling in his eyes. “Tired, s’all. We had a long night, didn’t get as much sleep as I should have,” he mumbled. He leaned in a little closer, almost as if he was addicted to the way Bucky radiated heat, despite how hot the theater already was. 

 

Bucky winked at him, “You bet we did. Gonna be a long one tonight, too.” Steve blushed and hid behind his free hand (he didn’t dare lift his other arm). They let the movie play, their hands soo  but not touching. Bucky leaned over, his lips brushing against the shell of Steve’s ear. “Til the end of the line, babydoll.”

 

“Til the end of the line,” Steve whispered. 

 

They left the pictures soon after and grabbed that pizza Bucky had mentioned getting earlier that morning. It didn’t take them long to eat, their boisterous laughter and goofy grins probably annoying the rest of the patrons and waitstaff, but they could care less. Then they were off to Goldie’s for Bucky’s match. 

 

Steve plopped himself on the bleachers beside Bucky’s corner and watched diligently as his boyfriend warmed up. Then the fight started and Steve was cheering Bucky on with his coach and friends from the gym, up until Bucky knocked the other guy out with a hard uppercut. Steve was jumping up and down, clapping widely until Bucky grinned at him with his mouthguard still in his mouth. 

 

“You did it!” He cheered as he tackled Bucky into a hug. “Knew you’d win.” 

 

“Told you before I can take down anyone,” Bucky winked at him. Steve rolled his eyes, but grinned nonetheless.

 

It seemed like the day had gone by like nothing by the time they were laying up on the roof, curled into one another on an old blanket. Steve had his head resting on Bucky’s chest, rising with each breath Bucky took, his arm draped across Bucky’s middle and a dopey smile on his face. “Today was great,” he whispered.

 

Bucky hummed and ran a hand through Steve’s hair. “It was. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” 

 

“Thank you. You made this day perfect.” Steve kissed Bucky’s chest and breathed him in, simply enjoying the moment. 

 

“Just tried to give you the day you deserved.” 

 

“You’re so cheesy,” Steve laughed. Bucky chuckled and kissed Steve’s head. They just laid there until Steve lifted his head and turned in Bucky’s arms to look at him. “Where do you see yourself in twenty years?” he asked softly as he played with a button on Bucky’s shirt. 

 

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his fingers still in Steve’s hair. “Where’s this coming from?”

 

Steve shrugged. “Just curious.” 

 

“Okay,” Bucky nodded and thought for a moment. “You want me to be honest or what I want to happen?” 

 

“Reality first, then the fantasy,” Steve mumbled. He knew where Bucky was going with this, but it didn’t help steel himself for the harsh truth. 

 

Bucky nodded again and laid his head down, gray eyes searching the sky for stars. “I’d probably be married with a couple of kids. We’d live in a nice, safe house in Brooklyn and you’d live close by with your family. We’d spend every weekend together and our kids would be best friends. You’d be my best man at my wedding and I’d be yours, even though it’d kill me inside to see you marry someone else. But it’ll be worth it, because we’ll be safe and we’ll still have each other around, which is better than losing you forever.” Bucky’s voice was thick, his eyes watering a little. He cleared his throat and sat up to look at Steve, his heart breaking at the sad, puppy look the younger man had. “Hey, now,” Bucky took Steve’s chin in his hand and ran his thumb over his bottom lip. “Don’t you start gettin’ upset with me. That’s at least another few years from now, alright?” Steve noddded. 

 

“What if we could be together? How do you picture it?” Steve whispered hoarsely, his voice thick with unshed tears. 

 

Bucky’s heart shattered again, but he took a deep, shaky breath and continued. “We’d get married on a roof because we always seem to end up on one.” Steve smiled softly at that and rested his chin on Bucky’s chest again, his eyes filled with adoration. “We wouldn’t have bridesmaids or groomsmen since we’re both men, we’d just have my siblings stand up there with us or maybe it’ll just be us. My mom would be in tears and crying over the both of us and little Rose would be old enough to walk down the aisle with us. Then, we’d get away from New York for a small honeymoon. We’d go somewhere sunny and warm, where it didn’t matter when we got hitched it’d still feel like summer. After that, we’d find us a nice house and get a dog or two, maybe even adopt a couple of kids. Either way,” Bucky took Steve’s hand in his and kissed the back of it, “we’d grow old together, until we were both well into the hundreds.” 

 

Steve was crying; big, fat, silent tears that spilled over his cheeks and splattered on Bucky’s shirt. “I’d love that,” he breathed out. 

 

“Me too.” Bucky pulled him into a kiss, soft and sweet. Then they were both looking back up at the clear, night sky as the stars twinkled overhead. “Me too.” 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

An hour. 

 

Steve had an hour to get home from work and change before he needed to leave to meet Bucky and the girls at the dance hall. 

 

And it was pouring. 

 

He huffed, pulled his coat tighter around his scrawny torso, and stepped out into the rain from the comfort of the art school’s front steps. His feet ached from his paper route earlier that morning, but that didn’t stop him from settling into a slow jog. He ran home, shoulders hunched and head ducked down enough to keep the water out of his eyes.

 

His chest was getting tighter as he got closer to his building, it’d come out in wheezes but that wasn’t anything new. He closed his eyes for a moment and powered through the pain, feet still pounding on the slippery cement. 

 

And then he collided with something kind of soft, but solid nonetheless. 

 

Steve opened his eyes to find himself sprawled out on the sidewalk, along with a bulky man and a mess of papers. . . that were dissolving in the rain with every second. He cursed and scrambled to help the man pick up his belongings. “I am so sorry,” he wheezed. “Guess I didn’t see you,” Steve tried to explain. He snatched up papers as fast as he could, to the point he was shaking and stuttering in his own embarrassment. 

 

He didn’t even notice that he grabbed the other man’s hand in his rambling scramble. 

 

“The fuck? You tryin’ to hold my hand?” The man growled as he snatched his hand away. “You stupid punk!” The man jumped up and jerked Steve with him, leaving the papers to soak in the puddles. 

 

Steve tried his best to gain friction, but the man had lifted him against a wall, leaving the toes of his shoes to scrape against the pavement. “I was just tryin’ to help,” Steve grumbled, his embarrassment evaporating into anger and annoyance. How dare he treat him like this when all he was trying to do was fix a mistake he made? 

 

The man sneered. “What you thought if you helped me out and held my hand, played it off as some accident, I’d just be okay with it? What are you, some queer? You look like one, like a damn fairy or some shit. Bet you’d drool over any man that looked at you.” He glared at Steve, who only matched his gaze with a defiant scowl and his chin jutting out just a little. “Answer me,” he growled. “Are. You. Queer?” The man spat, his fists clenching around Steve’s coat. 

 

Steve hates lying but in certain situations, much like this one, he knew it was a necessity. Thing is, Steve’s an awful liar. So when he took too long to answer and his face flushed (partially from his constricting chest and the embarrassment he had just went through that still lingered subconsciously), the man took it as a good enough answer. 

 

He dragged Steve into the alley and slung him hard a couple of feet. Steve hit the ground with an awful thud, his body aching on his right side where it hit the slick pavement. He staggered onto his feet, fists already raised and ready to defend himself. “Lemme teach you what happens to your kind,” the man growled. He threw a nasty punch to Steve’s face, sending him a couple steps back with a loud crack. 

 

Steve’s head was already pounding, but he tried anyways. He swung when he could, weak and reckless, already hurting from his day’s general tasks. Steve was miserable, what with the rain and the aches and the blood pouring down his face from his busted nose. . . 

 

The man wouldn’t stop. He kept saying disgusting slurs that fell on deaf ears at this point and throwing awful punches that knocked the wind out of him every damn time. 

 

It didn’t take long for the man to knock Steve down again, to send him flying across the alley so hard his head bounced off the concrete a couple of times. 

 

Steve’s vision blurred and his body ached everywhere. He wouldn’t be surprised if something was broken. . . Yet, with whatever he had left (strength, courage, stupidity. . .), Steve stood back up. “That all you got?” he dared to ask. He spat a bit of blood into a puddle before he lunged forward to throw another clumsy punch into the man’s chest. 

 

“I don’t have time for this,” the man snarled. The man snatched Steve’s collar and brought his right fist down on Steve’s cheek in a few, quick, sharp processions until Steve could barely lift his head. Then he threw Steve across the alley again, this time slamming him up against the brick wall. 

 

He couldn’t breath. His body ached and throbbed. He could barely see. His eyes already started to swell and his nose was still gushing blood. His arms were shaky every time he tried to get up and made him fall back to the ground with every push. 

 

And then, he fell into darkness in the middle of a grimy, damp alley somewhere between his building and the art school. . .

 

Meanwhile, Bucky was pissed. He stood outside the bar and waited for Steve for almost two hours. After an hour, he sent their dates home and promised to reschedule as unlikely as that was. Bucky stormed home, muttering under his breath the entire way. (“Stupid punk, leavin’ me standing out there like some idiot. Better have a damn good excuse why he blew me off.”) 

 

He practically broke the door down, he was so angry. “Steve!” He called out, slamming the door behind him. “Get your ass out here! We need to talk.” Bucky crossed his arms, his shoulders squaring and his jaw clenched. He stood in the middle of their living room and waited. And waited. And waited. 

 

As the minutes ticked by, Bucky’s anger evolved into worry. His body slowly started to relax, the realization that Steve may not have meant to ditch the date sinking in. ‘ _ Maybe he’s not feeling well and fell asleep? _ ’ he thought after a good while. Bucky sauntered over to their bedroom and cracked open the door, making sure his movements were lighter than they previously were. 

 

But the room was empty. There was no sign of Steve having been there since Bucky returned home from work to get ready for the date. His sleep clothes were still laying haphazardly on his side of the bed, his sketchbook still left neatly on his bedside table where he placed it the night before, and there was no sign of his work clothes. 

 

Bucky’s chest constricted. He felt light headed and nauseous as the situation sank in. 

 

Steve had never returned home. 

 

Bucky scrambled out the apartment, shoes skidding across the tiled floors in the hallway. He snatched the phone off the hook, dialed the operator, and waited. “Operator speaking, who are you trying to reach?” a soft, feminine voice asked. 

 

“I need to reach Professor Patrick Montgomery, please,” Bucky panted down the line. 

 

The operator gave a little hum and Bucky could hear the clicks as she switched the lines around. “Let’s see if he picks up, shall we?” 

 

Thankfully, the professor did. 

 

“Hello, Professor Montgomery speaking,” the man in question said. 

 

Bucky let out a sigh of relief before he spoke, “Professor, it’s James Barnes. Steve’s roommate. Did he show up today? We were supposed to meet somewhere and he never showed, doesn’t look like he came home either.” Bucky bit his lip and braced himself against the wall, head leaned back and eyes squeezed tight. 

 

“He was at my class like usual, left about ten minutes later than he usually did, but he was still there. I don’t know if he was delaying because of the rain or if a student asked him to stay behind to work on something, but he left my classroom a little after class finished.” 

 

Bucky felt his body deflate and go rigid all at once. If Steve wasn’t at the art school and he wasn’t at home, then where was he? He quickly hung up the phone with a rushed goodbye and a promise to let him know if Steve’s alright. 

 

He didn’t know what to do. His Steve was out there and with all the rain they were getting recently, he was probably sick somewhere. 

 

He wanted to puke. 

 

Bucky shook his head and barreled down the stairs, not even bothering to return home for his coat and hat or to shut the door properly. His Stevie needed him, he could feel it. 

 

Something wasn’t right.

 

His feet hit the pavement with a loud thud as he jumped down the last couple of steps. Bucky stood there on the sidewalk, unsure where to start looking but knowing he had to. And quick. 

 

He started towards the school, calling out every now and then and checking down any alleyways he came across. He stopped people, asked about a short blond man that looked as skinny as a rail. 

 

No one had seen him.  

 

Bucky wanted to cry. He wanted to breakdown and scream and cry until his Stevie was back in his arms. 

 

What if he was sick? What if he was in some dingy bathroom that hadn’t ever been cleaned, puking his guts out until he saw blood? What if he had an asthma attack? What if he slipped and fell? What if he got hit by a car? What if-

 

Bucky froze. A weak groan echoed off the brick walls of a narrow alley. There wasn’t much in the alley, nothing but a pile of garbage to one side. It was just off the corner and stopped a few feet deep. 

 

“Steve?” He called out, already jogging into the moist, dark passageway. “You in here?” Another groan. Bucky walked faster, his breath still labored from his frantic search. 

 

And as he turned to look behind the garbage, he nearly fainted. 

 

There, laying in a puddle of blood, rain water, and whatever juices oozed out of the garbage, was Steve, beaten bloody and blue. 

 

“Oh god, Steve!” Bucky fell to his knees and pulled Steve to his chest, his hands frantically trying to assess the damage. “Steve, can you hear me?” The blond man squirmed in Bucky’s arms, his face contorted and pinched as he groaned deeply. Bucky held him closer and cupped his bloodied cheek in his free hand. He tapped it a little, as lightly and firm as he dared. “C’mon, Stevie, talk to me.”   
  
Steve whined and opened his eyes slowly, bright blue hidden behind a glazed, unfocused lens. “Buck?”   
  
Bucky choked back a sob and bit his lip. “Yeah, Stevie. ‘S me.” He glanced back, checking to make sure no one was watching or coming this way. When the coast was clear, Bucky pressed a quick, yet lingering kiss to Steve’s temple. “Don’t worry, baby doll. I got you. I’ll take care of you.”   
  
He gathered Steve in his arms and carefully stood. Steve groaned with the movement, pressing his face into Bucky’s chest. Bucky carried Steve home, his pace fast and steady to keep from jostling Steve. “Hang on, pal. I’m getting you home and then I’ll fix you up, alright?” Steve nodded with a quiet sniffle. Bucky didn’t say anything about the tears his boyfriend shed.   
  
Steve gripped Bucky’s shirt tightly as Bucky walked up the stairs into their building, his hands shaking and slipping. A soft, involuntary whimper slipped from Steve’s throat and Bucky wanted nothing more than to rip apart whoever did this to his Stevie. There wasn’t any other logical explanation as to why Steve was so hurt and broken. He’d seen fragments of this before from the many fights Steve’s been in. Broken noses, large, fist-like bruises, and blood all over his body…     
  
Bucky shifted Steve in his arms to open the door, but thankfully on his rush to find Steve, he left the door wide open. He gently carried Steve inside, faltering as he moved to the couch. “Couch or bed, babydoll?”   
  
“Bed,” Steve said as steady as he could. Bucky knew Steve was trying to be brave, like always, that he didn’t want to be saved. He wanted to be the hero.   
  
With another kiss pressed to his temple, Bucky brought Steve into their bedroom and laid him on their bed. “Baby, you’re shakin’ and freezin’. Lemme get you outta those clothes,” Bucky said softly. He gently peeled off Steve’s damp clothes and quickly pulled the covers around his bare torso. He whispered a ‘be back’ and fled the room, returning with a damp wash cloth in his hands. Bucky sat beside the younger man and pulled back the covers to see his torso.    
  
Bucky wanted to cry at the sight. Steve’s milky white skin was covered in bruises, most the size of a man’s fist. Some were even busted with a little blood oozing out. All of them stark against his skin, deep blues, and purples swirled in odd shapes that littered his chest and sides.    
  
He bit his lip and cleaned the open cuts softly. Steve’s hands clenched around the sheets, his face pinched whenever Bucky touched a sensitive spot (aka all of them).     
  
“Stevie, what happened?” Bucky finally asked. He stood from the bed, tossed the washcloth into their dirty laundry, and grabbed the first aid kit they left on the dresser. If he wasn’t in the middle of an emotional crisis, he’d probably question whether or not that was pathetic.    
  
Steve groaned as he settled back into the pillows and blankets. “I was on my way home and it was raining, so I was runnin’ back. Guess I wasn’t lookin’ and some ran into this man. He was such an asshole,” Steve scoffed, but his voice was tight and pained.   
  
And just like that, all the pain and sadness Bucky was feeling was pushed aside. Instead, anger bubbled in his chest. He spun around with his jaw clenched and his free hand balled into a fist. “What’d he do, Steve?”   
  
“Nothin’ too serious. Just a little rougher than people usually are. Kept callin’ me a queer. Fought him as best as I could.” Steve let his eyes close and leaned back with a sharp hiss.   
  
“Don’t play this like it’s nothin’, Steve,” Bucky snapped as he started to get his supplies ready. “That bastard could have killed you. Could have hurt you ten times worse than this. Stevie,” Bucky pleaded, “if something went wrong, I may not have saved you. Next time, you may not make it back home.”   
  
Steve took his hand and squeezed reassuringly, a small, tight smile on his face. “Buck, I can handle myself.” Bucky rolled his eyes, his free hand moving to work on some of the gashes the man created. “You know that better than anyone.”   
  
Bucky sighed and brought the hand Steve was holding up to his face. He kissed his knuckles, lips lingering. “Steve, you can’t just go around and pick fights. You just can’t. I know you think you can, but Stevie, you ain’t strong enough to handle some things.”   
  
A deep frown formed on Steve’s face, his brow furrowing and nose scrunching up. Bucky knew that look and he regretted his poor word choice immediately. Steve’s hand shrunk back. “You,” he started to say. Steve didn’t look up, couldn’t. “You don’t think I can protect myself?”   
  
“That’s not what I said.” Bucky tried to take Steve’s hand again.   
  
“No, but it’s what you meant.”   
  
Bucky sighed again and went back to work on patching Steve up. Steve didn’t flinch away, but he didn’t meet Bucky’s eyes either.   
  
Neither said anything. They moved together in a familiar routine as Bucky cleaned Steve’s wounds and helped him get ready for bed. They climbed under the covers, and Steve eventually curled silently into Bucky’s arms.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered against Bucky’s bare chest.   
  
“No, doll. I’m sorry. I was being a dick,” Bucky mumbled. He kissed at Steve’s head, his arms squeezing the smaller man’s waist securely. “I was just so worried…”   
  
Steve looked up, a small smile on his face. “I know. You’re too good for me.”   
  
“Damn right I am. You better appreciate me more.”   
  
Steve surged forward and kissed him as hard as he could. “You better believe I will. I love you.”   
  
“I love you, too.” Bucky’s thumb rubbed circled in Steve’s hip as he pulled away. He rested his forehead against Steve’s and let out a shaky breath. “Stevie, you gotta be real careful nowadays. You remember when we were dating those sisters? Jean and June? Remember the night they broke up with us and we went out sulking, just walking around the streets?” Steve nodded, his eyes shut in bliss. “Remember when we saw those men get beaten to death?”    
  
Steve pulled away with a furrowed brow. “You don’t forget a thing like that, Buck.”    
  
Bucky sighed. “Steve, I know. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. We gotta be careful, babydoll. Promise me you’ll try to be careful,” he croaked. Steve’s hands moved to cup Bucky’s face, his thumbs gently wiping beneath his eyes at the silent tears that he shed. “Please.”    
  
“I’ll try. You know I will. I don’t want to hurt you.” Steve kissed him softly, his grip tightening reassuringly. “I promise.”

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Professor Montgomery checked his watch and announced, “Class has begun. Mr. Rogers, please distribute the canvases for me.” Steve nodded and grabbed half of the large canvases. 

 

“Need any help?” Bucky asked quietly, arms already outstretched to grab the other half of the blank canvases.

 

Steve grinned. “Thanks Buck.” 

 

It was a gloomy Sunday afternoon and Professor Montgomery arranged a tutoring session for anyone who needed extra help in preparation for their exams. Steve volunteered to help and Bucky, who had the day off and didn’t want to go to back home by himself after church, tagged along. 

 

The two handed out the canvases and the professor tasked Steve with helping him go around the room and assist the students individually. 

 

Bucky took a seat on one of the stools in the back, playing around with the radio. “Find us a good song, Mr. Barnes!” Professor Montgomery called from the front. Bucky flickered through the stations until the sound of a woman’s voice crackled through the speakers and settled into a nice, smooth melody.  

 

Steve eventually came to sit beside him, pulling his stool closer. “You okay?” he whispered, his voice almost muffled by the music.

 

“Yeah, punk. I’m fine,” Bucky mumbled as he reached over to push Bucky lightly. His hand fell to rest on the lip of Steve’s stool, and with a quick tug, pulled Steve even closer so their knees bumped together and they could smell the other’s aftershave. They didn’t say anything for a moment, both of them lost in their heads and the hum of the music beside them. When the song changed, Bucky cleared his throat and nudged Steve’s left knee with his right. “You seem pretty relaxed here.”

 

The apples of Steve’s cheeks turned pink. “I am. It’s nice to be around people who share a common passion.” Then, once he had heard how that could have come off, his head swiveled to face Bucky fast enough to give the kid whiplash. His big blue eyes were wide with horror as he stammered, “Not that I don’t like being around you, or anything. It’s just diff-”

 

Bucky slapped a hand over Steve’s mouth. “Quit. You’re ramblin’ for no reason,” Bucky chuckled. Steve’s face grew redder as his body relaxed into Bucky’s touch. “You don’t gotta apologize. I get what you meant. It’s different. I know. I got that same kinda thinkin’ with the guys at the docks. They’re different and what I got with them ain’t nothing compared to what we’ve got.” Bucky bumped their knees again and he dropped his hand from Steve’s face, despite how much he wanted to cup his cheek and kiss along the expanse of his soft, porcelain skin. 

 

Steve looked out to the class, watching as the students painted their canvases. “Some of these students can sit and talk for hours about this stuff. Then they’ll listen and add in to whatever you’re talkin’ about, like they would sports or the weather. And if you can’t quite explain something, they’ll still get what you're saying because they’re thinking along the same lines.” Steve played with a stray string on his pants, his hair falling in his eyes a little. “Kind of like being friends with the neighbors. They won’t judge us or say anything, ‘cause they get it. Gives us a chance to be us without having to constantly worry if anyone can hear what we’re up to.” Steve spoke softly and it felt too intimate for such a public setting, with his deep voice and soft words. 

 

Bucky wouldn’t admit it, but he loved this. He loved the fact they could sit so close and talk about  _ them _ without people freaking out. Granted, no one can hear them and they weren’t so obviously close (and if they were, people would assume they were just trying to hear each other from how loud the music was beside them). Either way, it sent a shiver down Bucky’s spine.

 

“I wish you could have stayed in school,” Bucky admitted.

 

Steve shrugged and stood, his arms stretched out above his head. “I don’t regret a thing. You shouldn’t either,” he said before he dazzled Bucky with the most charming smile he could muster. Then he walked back into the mass of students, bobbing from one student to another.

 

Bucky watched him with careful eyes, his face bored and lacking expression. He’d learned to keep his face as neutral as possible. Mostly to keep any questions about why he kept staring at Steve with a goofy grin on his face away, but it also helped when he needed to control his emotions and actions, physical and mental. 

 

He had never been so thankful for a talent than a moment like this. Because across the room was Steve, bent over as he helped a student blend the colors on their canvas or whatever technique he was showing. His khaki pants were snug around his ass, giving Bucky a clear view that left nothing to his imagination. 

 

Yeah, he was really proud of his self-control. 

 

Until the woman’s voice on the radio came to a sudden stop. There was a soft crackle of silence before a man spoke in a clear, monotone voice, “We interrupt this broadcast with a special new bulletin. The Japanese have attacked the American naval base of Pearl Harbor in Hawaii,” the man began. 

 

The room froze. 

 

Paintbrushes fell forgotten as students turned on their stools to face the radio sitting beside Bucky, their faces struck with horrified shock. Steve straightened up and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes flickering from the radio to Bucky nervously. 

 

No one made a sound as they listened to the news report. 

 

No one knew what to say. 

 

“Mr. Barnes,” the professor said quietly from where he stood in the middle of the aisle. Bucky looked up, his whole body tense. “Would you mind turning the radio off?” 

 

They hadn’t even noticed the broadcast had ended. . .

 

Bucky nodded and flicked the radio dial off. The professor continued, his voice a little louder, “I think it’d be best if we all went home.” He stood and gathered his and Steve’s coats and hats. Steve grabbed his, shrugged his coat on, and numbly followed Bucky out the school. 

 

Neither of them said anything until they were sitting in the living room. “You think we’ll end up going to war?” Steve asked softly from the other end of the couch. There was so much space between them. . . 

 

“Probably,” Bucky grumbled, his voice was hoarse and thick. “Don’t see why we wouldn’t. You really think they’ll let this slide? An attack on US soil ain’t somethin’ to wave off. They’re gonna do somethin’ ‘bout it.” 

 

Steve nodded and put his head in his head. “Think they’ll draft people like they did in the World War?” Bucky took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and nodded. 

 

And then let out a sob. 

 

Because he knew. He knew that if they did start drafting, that there was no way in hell Steve would pass. Steve was too fragile, too weak physically, to make it into the army. But  _ he _ wasn’t. He was perfectly healthy, hardly ever sick, and a good age for a soldier. 

 

If it came to drafts, he’d be one of the first to go. 

 

Then what would Steve do? He couldn’t afford the apartment by himself, especially since there wasn’t a guarantee that he’d keep either job with his declining health. And there was no telling how long this would last. Hell, it’d been going on in Europe for two years already. . . 

 

What if he died over there? What if  _ Steve _ died while he was over there? What if the war never ended and it destroyed everything? What was Steve going to do to support himself? What was Bucky going to do if Steve  _ did  _ get into the army? What was he going to do if  _ he _ got in? 

 

What were they going to do? 

 

Bucky hated himself for being so weak as sob after sob shook his body. Steve had crawled over to him, wrapping his small arms around his shoulders. He let Steve pull him into his chest, let him kiss his hair and wipe his tears. “It’s going to be okay,” Steve whispered. That’s when Bucky realized Steve was crying silently into his hair. “We’re going to figure this out.” 

 

_ What were they going to do? _

#  ~*~*~*~*~

“Buck, wake up.” Bucky groaned. He rolled over, prepared to smother Steve with his body, only to find no one laying beside him. He groaned again, this time a little whiner as he shoved his face in Steve’s pillow. “C’mon Buck, we gotta go.”

 

Bucky sat up, a miserable looking pout on his lips. Steve bit his lip, he always looked adorable when he first woke up. His hair was disheveled and sticking up every which way and his eyes were still droopy, like he could fall asleep at any moment. He looked younger like this, except for the light scruff on his jaw. Steve adored him. “Why?” he whined. 

 

“The new recruitment office is open. We gotta get down there.” Steve was on the other side of the room, stepping into a pair of khakis. Bucky groaned again and ran a hand down his face. “We talked about this last night, Buck. Don’t act like I’m springing this on you.” 

 

“But Stevie, it’s Christmas Eve! We gotta finish getting our stuff together, we don’t have time to enlist in the war!” Bucky’s voice was thick with sleep at first, but was slowly gaining its strength. “Do you know how pissed my Ma’s gonna be if she finds out we enlisted? ‘Merry Christmas Ma! Guess what we got you? A copy of our enlistment papers! Merry Christmas!’” Bucky mocked with a half-hearted glare. “I don’t get why you wanna enlist so bad, Steve. I just don’t.” 

 

Steve shrugged and pulled on a shirt over his undershirt. “I told you. Just do. Now c’mon. It’ll only take a minute.” Steve walked out the bedroom, his shoulders hunched a little more than usual. 

 

Bucky groaned and fell back into the bed. “The hell am I gonna do with his kid? Fuckin’ punk doesn’t get it,” he grumbled to himself. Then, with all the strength he could muster, he pulled himself out of bed. 

 

They finished getting ready in silence, except for Steve mumbling something about being out of groceries and Bucky’s short reply of “We’ll stop later, till then we’ll hit the dinner.” Then they were off, walking through the brisk December air down to the recruitment office on the corner a couple of blocks away. 

 

The office was packed, filled with half dressed men and doctors. Steve and Bucky filled out all of their information, sitting close together in a corner. “There’s a lot you gotta fill out,” Bucky mumbled. 

 

“Yeah, there is,” Steve said half-heartedly. He was stuck at the part where the papers asked for his medical history, that’s when Bucky looked up to see a somewhat defeated look tracing Steve’s features. “It’s thorough that’s for sure.” 

 

Bucky nodded and reached over to sling an arm over Steve’s shoulder. “We’re in this together, Steven. Me and you, punk.” Steve nodded, took a deep breath, and scrawled out his information. 

 

It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Steve got a 4F, his first out of many. Not a big one, at least. 

 

“James Barnes,” the same doctor who stamped Steve’s card called out. 

 

Steve looked up once a familiar shadow entered his peripheral. “They’re callin’ you.” 

 

Bucky shrugged. “I know.” 

 

Steve buttoned up his shirt and snapped his suspenders back on. “You should go.” 

 

He shook his head. “Don’t think so.” Bucky grabbed his clothes and changed quickly. “Wanna stop by the diner and grab somethin’ to eat? I’m starvin’.” And then he was dragging Steve out the recruitment office, ignoring his name being called out like it was nothing. 

 

“Why didn’t you enlist? That was the whole point of us going!” Steve asked, fists clenched by his sides as they started down the street. 

 

Bucky shrugged. “Didn’t want to in the first place. I told you that. I was only going to if you made it. Why else would I let you go first?” 

 

Steve glared up at him, his breathing deep and labored. He knew he was being ridiculous, he really did, but there was that little piece of him that just didn’t get it. Steve wanted nothing more than to feel like everyone else, to be apart of something more like a team or whatever. He just wanted to be like any other man, like someone who doesn’t have to worry about breathing too hard or whether or not their feet walked funny. 

 

It wasn’t fair that he couldn't do the things he wanted most because his damn body refused to work. 

 

But there was more to it than that. 

 

They sat down at a table in the back and ordered their breakfast quickly. (Okay, Bucky did, but he knew exactly what Steve was going to order anyways. He knew Steve wasn’t exactly in a great mode, meaning he probably shouldn’t come into contact with any human until this - whatever rage bubble that Steve has brewing in his chest - simmers down.) When the waitress left, Bucky lowered his head, eyebrows furrowed and his grey blue eyes dulled with concern. Carefully and quietly he asked, “Steve, pal, you aren’t really mad at me are you?” 

 

Steve tried to be. He did. He wanted to be pissed and throw a damn tantrum, but Steve knew that Bucky didn’t quite get where he was coming from. Besides, this is Bucky Barnes we’re talking about, the only person (except for Sarah Rogers) that Steve couldn’t be mad at. No matter what. 

 

His shoulders deflated and he gave a big, loud, dramatic sigh as he slumped forward a little onto the table, fists holding his face up. “No,” he pouted. 

 

Bucky nodded and took a deep breath.  _ Patience _ , he reminded himself,  _ leads to progress _ . “Wanna fill me in on whatever you got goin’ on? Can’t help when I’m stuck in the dark, punk.”  

 

“I don’t get it, Buck. Why don’t you want to enlist?” Steve demanded. 

 

The brunet bit his lip and nodded. He should have known Steve wasn’t going to spill easily. “Got too much I don’t want to leave. I’m a selfish son of a bitch like that.”

 

“Don’t talk about your ma like that,” Steve automatically scolded. He huffed and sat up, only to cross his arms with a deep pout. In Bucky’s eyes, it was absolutely adorable, what with his big puppy dog eyes and that bottom lip that jutted out, practically begging to be kissed. . . 

 

If they weren’t in public, that’s exactly how Bucky would solve this problem: kiss Steve stupid until he no longer remembered why he was pouting in the first place. 

 

“Hey Steve?” The blond glanced up at his name, his pout a little less vicious. “Why do you wanna  enlist anyways?” 

 

Steve sighed and sat up, finally acting like an adult. (Not that Bucky minded.) He wouldn’t meet Bucky’s eyes though as he played with a napkin, eyes casted downwards and his entire body tense. “You remember when we were little, like the summer after I met you, and all I wanted to do was play soldier for at least a month?” 

 

Bucky nodded, eyebrows still furrowed. “Vaguely.”

 

When Steve spoke again, his already deep voice seeped a little deeper into his Brooklyn drawl. “Before that, I kept buggin’ Ma about my dad. At every meal, as soon as I came home every afternoon, at bedtime, whenever, I would ask her about him. ‘D ask her stupid questions like ‘how come I’m the only kid on the block without a dad?’ and ‘if I do have a dad, then where is he?’ And, bless her heart, Ma would always give me real patient answers and change the subject to school or you.” He glanced up at Bucky with a small, timid smile, the nostalgia easing his tension. 

 

“You always did have some weird fascination with me. Couldn’t move without you tuggin’ at my arm.” Bucky winked at him and nudged Steve’s left boot with his right under the table (away from any wandering eyes, because let’s face it, Bucky’s paranoid).  

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Whatever. Anyways, point is, I finally broke Ma down. She sat me down and told me in very gentle, kid friendly terms, that my dad was a soldier and he was off fighting a big war. Course, I became infatuated with the idea of being just like him and being this brave hero.” 

 

Bucky nodded. Steve didn’t have to elaborate any further, Bucky remembered clearly the day Steve found out Joseph Rogers was killed in action. “You tryin’ to say this is because of your pops?” 

 

“Partially. Part of me still wants to be just like him, even though I know the danger and the risks that comes along with being a soldier. I get it, it’s scary as fuck and dangerous. But the child in me still wants to prove to the world I can be just like my old man and can be a hero. The other part just fucking hates this war and what this stands for. 

 

“Have you been following what Hitler’s been doing? He’s rampaging through Europe and demolishing all in his path. That’s a fucking bully if I ever saw one and I’ll be damned if I’m just gonna sit on my ass and watch from the sidelines while everyone runs to stop him.” Steve huffed, a dark scowl settling on his features.

 

“Damn.” Bucky cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. Not going to lie, he’s little surprised by the vengeance in Steve’s voice and a hell of a lot impressed by this kid’s determination and heart of gold. “You’re really worked up about this, aren’t you? Must be if you’re willing to cuss like a sailor in public.” It was innocent and just what Steve needed to pull him out of whatever funk he’d put himself in. 

 

The waitress returned with their food and the boys dug in, not bothering with conversation as they ate heartily. When Bucky started to slow down, his belly filling slowly, he finally said something. “You know, Steve, I really admire the heart and your reasoning for wanting to enlist-”

 

“There’s a but, isn’t there?” Steve asked behind his mug of black coffee. 

 

Bucky gave him a stern, yet sympathetic look and continued, “I just worry ‘bout you. That’s all. You may have the mind of a hero and a good heart,” Bucky faltered and quickly added, “mentally at least. But the rest of your body doesn’t see it that way. And that’s all the doctors care about. They don’t want a skinny little punk marching into battle, they want a strong soldier who isn’t going to snap like a twig at the slightest problem. That’s what the doctors and military officers see, Steve. They look at you and see an unimpressive twig. They don’t see what I see, or what your ma saw.” Bucky hooked their ankles together. 

 

Steve sighed. “I know, Buck. That doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying, you know?”

 

“The hell do you mean?”

 

“I’m not going to stop trying to enlist. Not until I physically can’t-”

 

“You physically can’t now! That’s the whole point of today!” Bucky was trying desperately to keep his voice down and his hands from flailing as he and Steve argued. “The doctors took a good look at you, told you to get out, and that’s it. You’re not enlisting, Steve.” 

 

“You don’t know that, Bucky. If they get desperate enough, they’ll let me.” 

 

“And how do you plan on enlisting again? You already got one 4F, they already know you can’t go. What, you gonna lie on your paperwork or something? Change your address or your middle name?” Bucky glared at him, jaw tight and nose crinkled a little with annoyance.

 

Steve nodded. “Yup.” 

 

“That is the stupidest plan I have ever heard,” Bucky grumbled. “You’re gonna get your ass arrested or killed.” He pointed his fork up at him, “I’m not supporting this. You can deal with my ma when she finds out you landed your stupid punk ass in jail. Got it?”

 

“I’m a big boy, Bucky. I can handle this.” 

 

“Goddammit, Steve. It’s fucking Christmas Eve and I’m done with this conversation. We are going to forget about this morning, forget about the war, forget about enlisting, and focus on the damn holiday. Okay?” Steve nodded. 

 

They did their best to have a good holiday, but the awkward tension between the two was palpable. It made the holiday feel off kilter, everything was off just because two stubborn young men couldn’t pull it together to have a nice, enjoyable holiday with Bucky’s family. 

 

Even so, Steve liked this Christmas better than the one of ‘36. He didn’t think there would ever be a worse Christmas. Nothing could be worse than the first holiday season without his mother. 

  
Or so he thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	16. 1942

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, we're nearing the end! Only about three more chapters, the epilogue, and maybe a bonus chapter before I go on hiatus to prepare for the next book! 
> 
> I'm not sure how I feel about how this is chapter but I hope you guys enjoy! ~ J xxx

_ Chapter Fourteen _

  
  


**1942**

 

Bucky crawled into bed, groaning softly as he did so. Steve was right behind him, closing the door softly. “Don’t forget to check the window,” Bucky mumbled as he pulled the covers up and around him. 

 

“Buck, I know.” Steve gave him a small smile and double checked that the window was closed. 

 

This afternoon, when Bucky came home from work he had an awful migraine. It wasn’t the first time he’d come home with an attitude and his head throbbing, nor would it be the last. It was the only time Steve was ever allowed to look after him (granted, Bucky hardly ever got sick in the first place). So when Bucky walked into the house, face screwed and twisted in pain and his body lumbering towards the couch, Steve knew exactly what was going on. 

 

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he called softly, only for Bucky to whine as he plopped down onto the couch. “Don’t go to sleep yet. Gotta eat first, or you’ll wake up sick.” Steve walked away from the soup he was heating up and moved to sit beside Bucky’s head.

 

“Not a child, Stevie,” Bucky grumbled, his words slurring a little. 

 

Steve hummed and gently ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “I know. But you’d treat me the same way. Let me take care of you, yeah?” Despite his long, pitchy whine, Bucky leaned into Steve’s touch. 

 

The skinny blond had managed to feed Bucky and get him to bathe before the two climbed into the dark, chilly bedroom. Steve checked the windows, like Bucky had reminded, and climbed into bed beside his warm, brunet boyfriend. “You feel a little better?” 

 

“Lil’ bit. Dark’s nice,” he mumbled, face already planted into the cool pillow. “You warm ‘nough?” 

 

Steve nodded, curling into Bucky’s strong embrace. “Yeah, I am. Toes aren’t, though.” With that, the blond wedged his toes between Bucky’s calves. 

 

The older boy hissed, nose scrunched and lips curled. “Shit, Stevie. Fuckin’ icicle.” Steve chuckled and eased his feet back into the slot between Bucky’s calves. “Seriously, punk. How do you stay cold?” 

 

“Dunno. Good excuse to cuddle with you, though.” Steve gave him a goofy smile and laid his head on Bucky’s chest. 

 

Bucky gave him a weak chuckle. “That is very true.” He kissed lightly at Steve’s forehead, barely pressing his lips to the skin. They laid in silence, curled up under the covers and wrapped in each other’s arms. Slowly, the throbbing in Bucky’s head eased up as the dark surrounded them. It wasn’t gone, by no means, but it was a little more tolerable. 

 

Except for the fact he couldn’t fall asleep.

 

“Hey Steve?” he whispered, eyes still closed and face still in the pillow. He barely got a hum in response, the blond squirming in his arms. “You still pissed I didn’t enlist?”

 

Steve pulled away a little, moving so they were eye level. “No,” he croaked. Even with the room pitch dark, Bucky knew Steve was blushing everywhere. He couldn’t stop himself from smirking. Steve cleared his throat and tried again. “No, I’m not. Couldn’t stay mad at you, you know that.”

 

Bucky shrugged half-heartedly. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you agree with what I did.” Silence lulled over them, only the sounds of the night outside the window and the creak of their neighbors walking overhead. “You know,” Bucky eventually said with a deep sigh, “I’d go if I had to. If they started drafting people like they did in the Great War, I’d go. Not like I have much choice in the matter. But,” his voice cracked a little - Steve didn’t comment, “if going over there to fight in this god forsaken war makes somebody a hero in your eyes. . . I’d go in a heartbeat. I’d go fight for you, Steve. Not for the country or for the Europeans or whatever else they’re saying the war’s over. You.” Steve sniffled and curled into Bucky’s embrace again, head tucked under Bucky’s chin. 

 

“You’re already my hero, Buck. You’re the bravest, sweetest, most courageous guy in Brooklyn.” Bucky didn’t say anything when he felt the first tear splash on his shirt. “You know this doesn’t change a thing, right? I still want to fight.” 

 

The older boy tightened his grip, eyes screwed shut and lips pressed into the mop of fine blond hair, and let out a small, defeated sigh. “Yeah, I know. You’re too stubborn to change your mind with a speech.” 

 

Steve gave a watery chuckle and kissed at Bucky’s neck. “Love you, you big jerk.” 

 

“You too, punk. Love you, too.” 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Steve hauled the last stack of papers up the last flight of stairs to his last client. He was exhausted, to say the least. His chest ached with each wheezy breath as he traveled back down the steps slowly. 

 

“Steve, you done?” Red Garret called from across the street. 

 

“Just finished, you?” He called back breathlessly. 

 

“Yeah. I’m heading to lunch, wanna join me? ‘M meeting up with a couple friends of mine,” Red said as he crossed the street. Steve huffed, but nodded nonetheless. 

 

Red was a gangly looking boy with bright green eyes, crooked teeth, a lopsided grin, a slight Irish accent, and a mess of dark blond hair that fell over his eyes constantly. He’d just dropped out of school not too long ago (probably right before Thanksgiving, now that Steve’s thinking about it) and was now working the paper route that ran parallel to Steve’s. He was a good kid (except for the fact he’s a Yankee fan, but Steve tried to look over that flaw) with a good head on his shoulders. Steve didn’t mind hanging out with him, despite the seven year difference between the two.

 

In fact, over the course of a few months, it’d become a routine of sorts for the two to work their routes together. Hell, Red covered for Steve whenever his asthma (or whichever ailment Steve was cursed with) decided to act up and he couldn’t finish for the day or he was too sick to come in. (Steve always gave him half his daily earnings on those days. Didn’t seem fair no to.) If it wasn’t for Red, Steve would probably be without a job. And Steve would do the same whenever Red had to look after his younger brother or his nieces. 

 

At least once a week the two would grab lunch together and listen to the broadcast for whatever game was playing. (It was always fun when the Dodgers played the Yankees. They always made the stupidest bets on who would win - one time, Steve had to ask one of the elderly widows in Red’s building out dancing because the Yankees won. . . She said yes. He never heard the end of it from Red and Bucky.) So the offer to grab lunch wasn’t unusual. 

 

However, on the way to their usual diner, the boys passed a bustling recruitment office. Red paused, fear and fascination sketched on his face. “Still can’t believe this is happening.” 

 

“I know,” Steve sighed, “it’s a bit overwhelming.” They stood shoulder to shoulder (well. . . shoulder to bicep. Red had a good few inches on Steve.) and watched the men enter and exit the office. Civilians going in, recruits coming out. Steve dared to ask, “You signing up?” 

 

Red let out a deep sigh, his shoulders hunched forward. “Probably. I’m floundering, just tryin’ to stay afloat you know? My mom’s havin’ another baby and my dad’s working himself sick, but we’re still barely making it. Besides, if I go ahead and enlist I can go when I choose, not because I have to. The pay’s good, might even help my folks out.” He shrugged and glanced down. “What about you?”

 

“I really want to. Think it’ll be good for me, in more ways than one. But,” Steve cleared his throat, his chest still tight and constricting, “they wouldn’t let me when I went.” 

 

“Bummer,” Red said with a long, low whistle. Then he was smirking at Steve and saying, “Least you’ll be able to keep old Mrs. Kurzmann company.” Steve shoved him playfully, a half-serious scowl etched on his features. Red laughed and stumbled, before he shoved his hands in his pockets, his expression sober. “You think they’d let me enlist? Go ahead and get it over with?’

 

“You’re too young-”

 

“They don’t know that. Far as they know I’m eighteen.”

 

“And if you get caught, they could arrest you.”

 

“I’d rather take the risk. My family needs me.” And then Red Garret was crossing the street and entering the office.

 

Steve struggled. He knew he should stop the kid from making a mistake, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was how it should be. He’d end up enlisting after his birthday anyways, he was only a few months away from his eighteenth birthday. By the time he was shipped out, he’d be old enough and no one would know the difference. 

 

And he knew he’d be a hypocrite if he tried to stop him from enlisting. 

 

His plan, while completely reckless, didn’t seem too terrible. . .

 

That’s how Steve ended up in the office with new paperwork. That’s how ‘Steve from Queens’ became a reality. 

 

‘Steve from Queens’ got a 4F too. 

 

Red Garret got a 1A.

 

Steve went home, ditching lunch with Red and co. entirely. He grumbled all the way home, only to plop down onto the couch, snatch up a sketchbook, and angrily start a new sketch. 

 

It wasn’t until Bucky returned home with a loud groan that Steve remembered he’d left his ‘Steve from Queens’ enlistment card with that big, ugly 4F laying around. He just couldn’t for the life of him figure out where exactly he’d left it. . .

 

“Evenin’ babydoll! Whatcha workin’ on?” Bucky leaned over the back of the couch to plant a kiss on Steve’s cheek. They both peered down to glance at the sketchbook, where a black and white fire blazed along the page. “Damn. You got any more suppressed anger you could lend a pal? Help me get ready for my match tonight? I know just the way to transfer it, too.” Bucky winked at him, his smirk so devious and heart melting that Steve almost forgot about the discarded enlistment paperwork. Almost. 

 

He watched with careful eyes as Bucky walked into the kitchen, still going on about his match. “You should see this guy fight, Stevie. He’s a legend! He practically ripped his last opponent to shreds and-” Bucky froze, beer in hand as he stood at the counter overlooking the living room.

 

Where the ‘Steve from Queens’ enlistment card laid, plain as day.

 

“Steve,” Bucky started slowly, “the hell did you do?” He looked up, eyes horrified and lips pressed into a tight, thin line. He was pissed. 

 

The blond did his best not to act like anything was majorly wrong. He simply kept sketching. 

 

“Answer me, Steve,” Bucky tried again.

 

Nothing.

 

Bucky groaned, took a swig of his beer, and marched into the living room, snatching the card on his way. He dropped it in Steve’s lap and crossed his arms. “Did you seriously try and enlist again?”

 

“Yes,” Steve finally said with a firm, deep voice. He wasn’t backing down, not when he knew he needed to enlist. Knew he needed to protect his country, protect the weaker kids, protect the defenseless. . . 

 

“The hell were you thinking?” Bucky reached over to hit the back of Steve’s head. “You’re gonna get your ass thrown in jail for a stunt like that! Lying on a damn government enlistment form is fraud, Steven. That’s a felony! I can’t believe you,” Bucky groaned and tugged at his neat hair. He dropped his hands over his face, stopping to pinch the bridge of his nose. “No, the thing is I can so very clearly see your punk ass pulling off this damn stunt. I just- You know what? I’m going to my match. Don’t bother coming down.” Bucky snatched his coat off the rack, put on his hat, and grabbed his keys. “Night.” 

 

He slammed the door shut. 

 

Steve was alone. And he cried into his hands.And screamed into pillows. And tugged at his hair. And sketched until his fingers were numb and achy. 

 

All because he couldn’t determine which was more important: his morals or Bucky. 

 

He’d learn one day, but by then it’d be too late.

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Bucky’s fists were flying, pounding on the sand bag with a ferocity that fascinated (and excited) Steve to no end. There was something about the anger and concentration molded on the brunet’s face and the way his muscles rippled along his arms and back that Steve couldn’t quite grasp. Part of him believed it was the artist in him, the one trained by his professors to see the beauty in everything, especially the human body. But the logical side knew the truth: Steve was in love with Bucky, from his fly away baby hairs to the scar on his right big toe from when they were kids. And with that, came the appreciation of his physique. 

 

Especially when he remembered the simple fact that Bucky was his. 

 

Steve glanced around at the other patrons in Goldie’s Gym and leaned against the ring, holding out a water bottle for Bucky. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over how good you are.”

 

Bucky smirked around the bottle, a few droplets slipping past his lips and rolling down his chin, neck, and chest until they finally disappeared on the waistband of Bucky’s shorts. Steve was captivated.  _ Why does he even bother with a shirt? _ Steve couldn’t help but think. Bucky pulled the bottle from his lips and leaned against the post. “Stevie,” Bucky whispered with a mock-scandalized expression, “it's not polite to walk around without a shirt on. Didn’t your Ma teach you that?” 

 

The heat that spread across Steve’s face and upper body was suffocating. “I didn’t mean to say that aloud.” 

 

“Really? Because I just figured you wanted the world to know how sexy I look. But if you say so,” Bucky held up his hands in surrender and gave a cheeky little wink before he sat down on the edge of the ring, feet hanging carelessly near Steve. He made sure to leave a little distance, as painful as that was, in case wandering eyes happened to look over. “Thanks for coming tonight. Feel like we haven’t seen a whole lot of each other recently. Damn shame, really.”

 

Steve nodded and glanced around again without even thinking it. It was second nature to look over his shoulder whenever he and Bucky were alone in public. . . It pained him daily, but he knew it was worth the risk of calling Bucky his. “Yeah. We’re always too tired when we get home nowadays. Or one of us is sick.” 

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “No, you’re always sick. Migraines don’t count.” 

 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy.”

 

“That’d be you, doll,” Bucky whispered in a voice so low and sultry it should be illegal. 

 

Steve had to bit his lip from groaning. “Shut up!” He gasped as he shoved Bucky playfully. Bucky was practically cackling, grabbing at his stomach. “You’re a jerk.” Steve punched his boyfriend’s shoulder, a scowl teasing his lips. 

 

“Ow!” Bucky giggled (he’d deny it with a vengeance if you said anything. Bucky Barnes does not giggle. Not even a little.) and rubbed at his shoulder. “Anyone ever tell you you got a nasty punch for a twig?” Steve didn’t even attempt to stop his eyes from rolling as he flicked Bucky off. “Seriously, Stevie! You gotta arm on you, I’ve always told you that. You were always a decent pitcher, you just couldn’t control it to reign it in. I think the same goes for your punches.” 

 

The blond crossed his arms. “Where you going with this, Buck?”

 

“Let me teach you to box.” Bucky sat up and gave Steve the most earnest of looks he could manage. 

 

“Seriously?”

 

He shrugged. “Seriously. Been meaning to ask you.” Bucky stood up and looked Steve in the eye. “We talked about it before and I’ll teach you all the basics. Maybe you won’t get your ass handed to you so much. C’mon, let me teach you.” 

 

“Okay.” 

 

Steve borrowed a pair of Bucky’s shorts that were a little too big for his scrawny hips and Bucky wrapped his knuckles up with a practiced ease. And then Bucky was bouncing around Steve as he helped adjust his form, his fingertips lingering just a heartbeat too long. Steve listened like his life depended on it, eager to impress Bucky with his raw talent. 

 

Eventually, Goldie’s closed and Bucky’s boss left, tossing Bucky the keys to lock up on his way out. “Lock it up on your way out, Barnes!” 

 

“Sure thing!” Bucky waved him off, going back to help Steve dodge more effectively. 

 

Neither boy cared that they had work first thing in the morning or that it was well passed midnight and they still hadn’t eaten. They were too wrapped up in each other, fully encompassed by the other that they ignored their own body’s needs and worries.

 

Until Steve couldn’t breath properly (as properly as an asthmatic could) and Bucky forced him to sit down and guzzle a bottle of water while he cleaned up around the gym. “So,” Steve gasped out, “am I any good or you just sayin’ that to be nice?” 

 

Bucky waved him off and turned to sweep around the bleachers. “I told you Stevie, you’re a natural. We just gotta work on reigning your energy in. You practically buzz with restless energy as is,” he chuckled from across the room. 

 

“I feel like you have to say this.” Steve gave a suspicious glare from his seat in the middle of the ring. 

 

“Stop,” Bucky groaned. “Just take the damn compliment and deal with it.” 

 

“What if I don’t want to?” 

  
“Then I’ll just have to make you.” Bucky crossed the room in an instant, after he checked the lock on the door of course, and rolled himself into the ring. Steve gasped as Bucky practically tackled him down, their lips meeting hastily. 

 

There was something about the way Bucky’s perpetually chapped bottom lip felt against Steve’s that drove the younger crazy. 

 

“Believe me, yet?” Bucky asked as he pulled away way too soon, but he had to consider Steve’s weak lungs which were the only reason they stopped their lesson in the first place. It wouldn’t be right for him to push them to the limits with a make-out session. It took all of his self control to keep his lips away from Steve’s, a magnetic pull bringing them closer subconsciously. 

 

“No. You’ll have to keep trying,” Steve huffed, but his usually deep voice took on a higher pitch as Bucky kissed behind Steve’s jaw and ear. 

 

“Oh yeah?” 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Good thing we got all night.” And then they were kissing again, Steve’s hands wrapped around Bucky’s neck tightly. 

 

“Hey Buck?” Steve asked when they pulled away not long after. Bucky grunted in response, too busy sucking on Steve’s protruding collarbones that stuck out of his undershirt. “Is this how all of our lessons are going to end?”

 

“Is that a promise you’ll stick with this?” Steve nodded eagerly and tugged at Bucky’s hair. “Then probably.” 

 

Bucky didn’t tell him that he was trying to prepare Steve for if he ever got shipped out. Steve tried to be as oblivious as he could, but deep down he knew. They were both too scared to acknowledge the all too real possibility. It was easier to pretend there wasn’t a chance of Bucky leaving. 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Bucky paced the length of the living room. His hands were tugging at his hair one minute and the next he was practically ripping his fingers off from wringing them so much. He’d been at it for twenty minutes. 

 

Steve’s class was canceled today, which means he should have been home. But he wasn’t and that scared Bucky. 

 

Not that Bucky has to know everywhere Steve goes, he’s not that kind of man. He doesn’t need to keep tabs on Steve or how Steve spends their money. And Steve doesn’t freak out every time Bucky came home late, even when he reeks of booze and perfume. Hell, just last week Steve was  _ surprised _ when Bucky came home on time last Thursday instead of hitting the bar with the guys at the dock. (He only stayed for a drink, but still. . .)

 

Bucky really hated how panicked he felt. It wasn’t fair, not really at least. 

 

Then again, Steve never found Bucky unconscious in the back of an alley. 

 

“Dammit Steve, where are you?” he cursed, eyes flickering to and from the clock. Bucky had plans, and maybe that had something to do with his panic. But he came home early to surprise Steve and take him dancing. That was before he came home to an empty house. . .

 

All he could see was Steve in that alley. . .

 

Another ten minutes passed. Bucky didn’t know what to do. . . His Stevie wasn’t home and a nasty feeling bubbling in his chest. 

 

He nearly cried when Steve walking into the apartment. Bucky practically tackled Steve, pulling the small blond into his chest. “Buck, what-” Steve tried to say against Bucky’s chest as the door shut behind him. 

 

Bucky held him close for a moment, relishing in the relief of having Steve safe in his arms. Once the relief started to fade, the realization kicked in. Bucky pushed Steve away, holding him at arm's length, and glared down at him. “Where the fuck did you go?” He snapped. 

 

Steve quirked an eyebrow. “Why are you home so early?” 

 

“Steven, answer me.” 

 

“Okay, jeez,” Steve grumbled. The younger man pulled away from Bucky and pulled out a familiar card. 

 

Bucky let him go, took a step back, and groaned in frustration. “You didn’t. . .” 

 

Steve’s shoulders fell just a little. “Bucky, I’m sorry-”

 

“Np, you aren’t.” Bucky started to pace again, his hands folded behind his head. “You aren’t,” he repeated, “because if you were, you wouldn’t have done it for a third time.” He didn’t seem to notice the volume of his voice increasing with each word.

 

“You know what,” Steve snapped, “you’re right. I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry that I’m trying to do what I feel is right.” Steve glared at him, still by the door. He hadn’t even taken off his shoes. 

 

“Take a goddamn hint Steve!” Bucky bellowed in exasperation. “They don’t want you! Your lungs are too damn weak, you’re practically deaf in one ear, and you’ve got the immune system of baby! Get it into your thick skull that the army just doesn’t want you.” Bucky had started to move his arms, emphasizing his words as he glared at Steve from across the room. 

 

Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Unbelievable. . . You, of all goddamn people, have told me countless times that I can do whatever I want despite my ailments. And now you don’t think I can do something? Did you ever?”

 

“Don’t you fucking dare twist my words, Stevie. You and I both know that’s bullshit.” Bucky took a few steps forward. “I know you can do whatever you want, that you can keep up to a certain extent. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. But the army sees facts on paper, and babydoll, you don’t add up.” 

 

Steve sighed, his shoulders deflating as he exhaled. “I know, Buck. I do. I get that, but I just can’t help but think ‘Maybe one day, they’ll be desperate enough to let me sign up.’” 

 

Bucky pulled Steve into his chest, his arms wrapped around the petite frame. “They’ll lower the age requirement before they let you join. Just a simple truth.” He pressed a kiss to Steve’s forehead, his lips lingering. “I get why you’re trying,” he mumbled against Steve’s skin, “but you’re gonna get yourself arrested. Then. . . I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” 

 

Steve squirmed in his grip, but nuzzled his nose further into Bucky’s shirt nonetheless. “I can’t stop trying. I won’t.”

 

“I know you won’t. That’s what scares me,” Bucky sighed. 

 

They stood like that for a moment, holding each other tightly. “I’ll make a deal with you,” Steve whispered. Bucky bit his lip, but nodded against Steve’s head. “I won’t go to another office for at least six months.  _ At least _ .”

 

Bucky took a deep breath and pulled away. “I’ll take what I can get-” he gasped as Steve looked up at him, “The hell happened to your face?” 

 

Steve’s left eye was slightly swollen, the edges bruising as they spoke. “I, uh. . . Got into it with a guy at the recruitment office,” he mumbled.

 

“This,” Bucky spat, “is why I’m seriously considering putting you on a leash.” 

 

“Not even sorry. He started to say stupid shit and I wasn’t having it.” Steve shrugged and for the life of him Bucky couldn’t help but smile. 

 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, punk.” Bucky kissed his forehead with a loud, obnoxious sound. “C’mon, let’s put some ice on that.” 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Daisy placed each plate exactly one inch from the wine glasses and two inches apart. Each place set had to be perfectly centered according to each chair. Everything had to be perfect. . .

 

Because this was Eugene and Will’s last Thanksgiving before they left, which also meant an unspoken possibility of it being their last. 

 

“The table looks lovely, Daisy,” Winifred called from the kitchen. 

 

“Thank you,” she preened. The plates, place mats, glasses, silverware, napkins, and the salt and pepper were already situated perfectly among the table. All she needed was the food. “Can I put anything else on the table?” 

 

Winifred smiled and shook her head, still stirring the mashed potatoes. “Not yet, sweetie. Soon.” Daisy nodded, hardly listening to what her mother was saying as she aligned the candle holders. 

 

Daisy really wanted things to go well, to have a perfect holiday she could remember forever. It’d be the best thanksgiving in all of eternity!

 

Someone bumped the table and the candle holders shifted. Daisy gasped, her head shot up, and her grey eyes shifted into a fatal glare at Eugene. “Eugene!” she screeched, scandalized as she scrambled to fix the candle holders (they were arranged so the biggest was centered in the middle and the other two that were relatively the same size were evenly spaced out). 

 

“Sorry! Sorry,” he snickered with his hands up. 

 

Winifred appeared in the doorway with an exasperated sigh. “Why would you do that? You know how much she cares about the table setting.”

 

“Ma, I’m sorry. It was a genuine accident.” Eugene pulled their mother into a hug, the trademark Barnes smile plastered on his face. Winnie rolled her eyes, but squeezed her son nonetheless. Daisy huffed and continued her task. She was so focused on getting the table just right, she missed Eugene introduce his new girlfriend and Rebecca and her family swarming the kitchen to say hello to everyone. 

 

But she’d  _ never _ miss Bucky and Steve.

 

Ever since she found out last year, the twelve-year-old had only grown more attached to the two. She’d spend weekends and nights at their apartment and over the summer she tagged along with steve to deliver the papers (he always bought her a milkshake afterwards).

 

She absolutely adored them.

 

While Rebecca, Will, Eugene, his girlfriend that Daisy still didn’t know, and Winnie crowded around the table, Daisy fixed up the table again and again. Until a familiar laugh echoed in the stairwell outside their apartment.She gasped and gently, yet franticly, set down the serving spoon she was holding in its place before she scrambled away for the door. It swung open, revealing Steve and Bucky dressed real nice with big smiles. She squealed, tackling Bucky into a tight hug. 

 

“Daisy! There’s my best girl!” Bucky cheered as he swung her around. 

 

She giggled and let go of his neck so she could look at him. “I missed you.”

 

“Missed you, too, sweetheart.” Bucky planted a big, wet, noisy kiss on her cheek and set her down, only for Daisy to latch onto Steve. 

 

“Hi Stevie!” she giggled.

 

“Hi Daisy!” He mocked and kissed her forehead. “How’s school? Did you pass that test you were worried about?” 

 

Daisy nodded. “I got an A! Had the best grade in the class and I only missed one question!” 

 

“Nicely done!” Steve hugged her tight once more before he released her from his hold. “Buck and I are real proud of you.” Daisy blushed, her chin held high. 

 

“Daisy, let the boys in the house!” Winnie scolded playfully, her arms already wide and a beaming smile. Bucky chuckled and fell into his mother’s awaiting arms. “Good to see you, baby,” she cooed, swaying back and forth lightly. 

 

“Ma, I was just here last week!” Bucky laughed.

 

Winnie hit his arm and pushed him away, only to pull Steve into her embrace. “So glad you could make it, Steven.” 

 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Steve pulled away, kissed her cheek, and moved to say hello to the rest of the Barnes family. 

 

Daisy took Bucky’s hand and dragged him to the table. “What do you think?”

 

Bucky crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, observing the table with a critical eye. He paced around, bending to get a closer look and moving his head in different angles, all while Daisy waited with bated breath. He settled beside her after a long minute, took a deep breath, and said, “I think it looks incredible! You did a great job, kid.” 

 

She practically deflated in relief. “Thank goodness,” she hugged his waist, “I wanted it perfect for today.” 

 

“Well, it shows.” 

 

Soon, after George came home from the store, everyone gathered around the table and dug into the meal. Will gushed about the food, Winnie waved off his comments with a blush, and Eugene picked on Daisy while Bucky teased Eugene. But Daisy could care less about her older brother teasing her about her dress and hair, not when she was happily sitting between Steve and Bucky. She’d glance at Steve, who’d make the silliest face he could until she giggled, and then she’d glance to Bucky, who gave her a dazzling smile and a wink each time. 

 

But dinner didn’t stay light hearted, not that it ever did.

 

George cleared his throat. “So, when do you boys ship out?” 

 

“I leave just after Christmas, going to France,” Will said with a sad sigh. Becky silently took his hand, but her focus remained on feeding Rose. 

 

Eugene bit his lip and glanced around the table, before he quietly said, “I actually leave in two weeks for Italy.”

 

“Two weeks?” Winifred cried, her fork falling to her plate with a clank. “And when did you plan on telling us, Eugene?” 

 

“I just found out Monday! It’s real short notice for everyone, but they need me in Italy. Ma, I’m real sorry.” He stood up and moved to hug Winifred tightly.

 

Daisy’s shoulders slumped. As much as Eugene got on her nerves, she didn’t want him to leave. If he left, he may never come back. . . That’s what happened to the men in wars, they didn’t return. Steve reached over and rubbed her back, just out of sight from the rest of the table. Daisy never liked people to see her upset, thankfully Steve understood. 

 

A tension fell over the table, the sounds of forks hitting the plates, wine glasses sloshing as people picked them up, Rose’s babbling as her mother fed her, and Winifred silently crying in Eugene’s shoulder. 

 

Bucky squirmed in his seat, head tucked down.  _ He must be upset about Eugene, too _ , Daisy thought.  _ They are kind of close, not as close as Bucky and I, but close _ . Daisy nudged his knee with her own, but he didn’t look up. 

 

“I got my draft notice. I leave for basic training Monday,” he blurted out. 

 

And the world froze. 

 

Steve started to cough, weak wheezes of air as he gently put the glass in it its place (right where Daisy intended for it to go, she noticed) and moved away from the table. He walked straight out of the apartment, his coughing fit echoing through the house. 

 

Bucky looked torn, glancing back to the door only to turn back around to the table. Daisy didn’t really understand why she didn’t go after Steve. She’d seen the man have an asthma attack and it was one of the scariest memories she had. Why wasn’t Bucky saving him? 

 

“When did you find out?” George asked.

 

“Yesterday,” he sighed.

 

“I’m surprised you didn’t tell Steve. You two are practically attached at the hip and you didn’t tell him you were leaving?” Becky raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

 

Bucky waved her off. “It’s just basic training.” Becky nodded slowly, her eyes narrowed. 

 

“What does that mean?” Daisy asked quietly. She knew, there was no way she didn’t, but she  _ needed _ to hear Bucky say it. 

 

“It means,” he sighed, “I leave for a few weeks to train for the army. Then I come home and wait for my orders. I leave Monday and I’ll be back for Christmas.” Bucky glanced back to the door, where Steve was still coughing. “Excuse me,” he blurted out, scrambling to get up and check on Steve. 

 

Daisy’s bottom lip trembled, everyone was leaving and she couldn’t do anything to stop them. . . 

 

Bucky and Steve didn’t come back until dinner was over. Steve’s eyes were red and his skin was even paler; he just looked weak. Bucky looked exhausted, his neat clothes wrinkled and disheveled. They didn’t stay long after clean-up. 

 

So much for the perfect Thanksgiving. . .

#  ~*~*~*~*~

It was cold and dark inside their bedroom. Steve tried his best to curl up next to Bucky’s warm body, to warm his cold toes and fingers between Bucky’s limps. It’d been hours since they’d gone to bed and Steve was still shivering. He pressed his bare torso against Bucky’s chest and tugged the blanket tighter around their shoulders. 

 

He’d tossed and turned for most of the night. Every time he’d get comfortable, his lungs would act up. Steve would be forced to sit up, give a weak cough or two, and settle back down, only to sit up again. Bucky, the lucky bastard, slept peacefully beside him, his face smushed into the pillow and his arm outstretched for Steve to curl into.

 

Steve couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t even blame the cold. No matter how hard he tried to let sleep take over his mind, it’d always fight back.

 

Because Bucky leaves tomorrow morning for basic training and he’d be gone for weeks. 

 

It’d been haunting him since Thanksgiving, sitting in the back of his mind and waiting for a lull in his thoughts to creep back to the forefront. Bucky was leaving until the next year, at least, and Steve would be able for weeks.

 

Bucky didn’t even want to go. Albeit, he didn’t have a choice, but Steve knows he’d be great. Not just because in his eyes Bucky practically hung the moon, but more so the fact that Bucky’s good at everything. Be it singing and dancing or boxing and track, he’s going to be incredible if he likes it. The military will be no different. 

 

He gets to leave America and do what Steve wants to do. 

 

Steve just wants to go with him. 

 

Beside him, Bucky groaned. “Stevie, go to sleep,” he mumbled. Bucky wrapped an arm around the blond’s waist and pulled him close. “Quit thinkin’ so hard and sleep.” He whispered in Steve’s hair, followed by a lingering kiss that melted Steve’s heart. 

 

“I can’t help it,” Steve mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

 

Bucky hummed and held Steve closer. Soon, his breathing was slower and his lips were parted just so. Steve wiggled in his arms, moving to get a good look at Bucky while he had the chance. 

 

He looked so peaceful when he slept, and ten years younger at that. The sharp edges to his jaw looked softer and the apples of his cheeks were rosier in the moonlight. He was breathtaking. . .

 

_ ‘I won’t get to see this face every morning for weeks. . . _ ’ Steve had to bit his lip to keep from sobbing at the thought. He pressed his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck, his sniffles muffled by the warm, sweaty skin. 

 

Bucky whined into the pillow. “Dammit Steve,” he grumbled. Bucky sat up with Steve still in his arms. “Babydoll,” he whispered, “what’s keeping you up? What’s the matter, huh?”

 

Steve sniffled, his head now tucked under Bucky’s chin. “I’m gonna miss you.” 

 

“It’ll only be for a few weeks. ‘Sides, there’s still a chance I’ll come home next year and the war will end before I can get shipped out. We just gotta stay positive.” Bucky moved to kiss Steve’s forehead, their bodies swaying lightly. 

 

“I know there’s a chance,” Steve mumbled. He sat up straighter and looked directly at Bucky as he spoke, “But, Buck, let’s be honest here. You’re gonna be a soldier. You’re going to go off and do something good, I just know it. And. . . and I’ll be here, hoping you’ll write to me once every few months to let me know you’re still alive. Hell, I’ll even use a fake name, like Stacy or Stephanie, just in case anyone asks you questions.” Bucky reached up to cup Steve’s face in his hands. He held Steve’s face as if he were handling a porcelain doll, his thumbs brushing away the stray tears with a delicate pressure. Steve huffed, “I just. . . You’ll have this unique experience without me, all because my lungs are too weak. And I’ll be stuck here doing whatever job pays the most to keep our place for when you come home.” A lump stuck in Steve’s throat, and Bucky knew what he was thinking about. 

 

He held Steve’s face just a little tighter. “Don’t you dare think like that,” he scolded. “You think like that and you’ll make it happen. That’s what your Ma used to say, at least. Baby, we’re going to be okay. I’ll come home after basic and it’ll be like I never left. Then if - if - I ever get shipped out, I’ll be the best damn soldier for you, sugar. I’ll come home from the war, too. Come home, sweep you off your damn feet, and kiss you till you see stars.” Steve gave a small, watery laugh and a sad smile spread across Bucky’s face. “‘Cause you know what?” 

 

“What?” Steve sniffled.

 

“I always find my way back to my best guy,” Bucky whispered. He pulled Steve closer, his lips nudging Steve’s. Steve giggled, his hands wrapping around Bucky’s neck. “I love you, Stevie.”

 

“I love too, Buck.”

 

The next morning, they tried to act as normal as possible. Steve woke up before Bucky and made a bigger breakfast than usual, wrapped in a blanket, a pair of pajama pants, and one of Bucky’s sweaters. When Bucky woke up and entered the kitchen, his arms were wrapped tightly around Steve’s waist the second he had a chance. “Mornin’,” he mumbled against Steve’s neck. “Smells good.”

 

“Made your favorite,” Steve hummed. 

 

“Pancakes!” Bucky cheered sleepily. Steve giggled and handed him a plate before he grabbed his own and followed Bucky to the dining area. They ate quietly, with their ankles hooked underneath the table and shy, goofy smiles on their faces.

 

After they ate, Bucky put on a record while they did the dishes. He was dancing around the kitchen in between rinsing and drying the dishes. It took everything in Steve not to drop the plates as he shook with laughter. “Careful!” he scolded between his laughs. Bucky winked at him just before he started to belt the words out along with the singer. 

 

Eventually, he snagged Steve’s hand and drug him into the living room. “Buck, c’mon I gotta get the dishes done,” Steve tried. Bucky rolled his eyes, still singing, and spun Steve around. Steve did his best to keep up with Bucky’s footwork as they danced, but honestly, he didn’t care. He just enjoyed dancing with his boyfriend in the middle of their living room. 

 

When a slow song came on, Bucky spun Steve around until he was cradled in his arms. They swayed, with one of Bucky’s hands on Steve’s lower back and the other holding Steve’s hand. He pressed his cheek against Steve’s and whispered the words to the song, swaying their bodies softly. “I love you so much, doll,” he barely murmured.

 

“I love you, too, Buck,” Steve sighed. 

 

But soon, Bucky had to finish packing and head out. “You got everything?” Steve asked as Bucky carried his things to the door. 

 

Bucky nodded and sighed. “Yeah, Stevie, I got everything. ‘Cept you.” 

 

“Like you said, it’s just a few weeks then you’ll be home.” Steve bit his lip and stepped into Bucky’s open arms. 

 

“Promise.”

 

“Love you,” Steve whispered as he stood on his toes to kiss Bucky as slow and passionate as he could.

 

“Love you, too.” 

And then, with one last look, Bucky walked out the door. 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

“Stevie,” a voice whispered, “wake up!”

Steve groaned and peeled his eyes open to smile at Daisy. “Good morning, did you sleep well?” 

Daisy shrugged, curling into Steve’s side. “I guess. It’s weird being here without Bucky.” 

“Preachin’ to the choir,” Steve said with a yawn. “It’s been nice having you here, though.” Daisy beamed up at him. “Are you hungry? We can go out for breakfast.” 

“Okay!” Daisy jumped out of the bed and scrambled over to her bag where her clothes were spilling out of. Steve chuckled and climbed out of bed, leaving the bedroom entirely to let Daisy get ready. 

It’s been three weeks since Bucky left for basic training. Steve worked himself to death trying to keep up, even took Red’s route now that he was overseas. And if he wasn’t working, Steve was at the Barnes’ apartment to help Daisy with her homework (she struggled in literature, one of Steve’s favorites) or babysitting Rose.

Anything to keep him from thinking about Bucky. 

Daisy stayed over a lot more. Steve enjoyed the company, especially when he could freely talk about Bucky without censoring himself too much. (He wasn’t about to talk about their private life with his partner’s little sister. . .)

Eventually, the pair traveled down to the diner, snagged themselves a booth, and ordered their meals. “When does Bucky come home?” Daisy asked once the waitress left. 

“January tenth, I think,” Steve mumbled. 

“Can I come over on the eleventh then?” 

Steve chuckled. “Course you can. He’ll probably want to come see everyone, have supper at your house or something. Then you came just come home with us, that sound okay?” She nodded behind her hot chocolate. “He’s gonna be upset that he’s missing CHristmas. We’ll have to make a big deal for him when he comes home. Maybe celebrate it again for him?” 

“I think we can do that. I’m gonna make my apple pie for Christmas dinner, I’ll just make another so he doesn’t miss it.” 

“I love that idea.” Steve winked at her from over his coffee mug, only to get an eye roll from Daisy. 

“Hey Steve?” Daisy whispered suddenly, leaning closer.

Steve set down his mug and leaned in so their noses almost touched. “Yes?” 

“What’s it like to have a boyfriend?” she barely whispered, her hand cupping her lips around Steve’s ear. 

Steve leaned back and rubbed at his chin, praying his face wasn’t too red. “Well,” he started, “I don’t have much experience in that department. Just your brother,” he mumbled. He cleared his throat and sat up a little. “But it’s nice to have someone around, keep you company. And they,” he made a weird hand motion, “can be really sweet. If they’re anything like your brother, they’ll keep you safe and happy, but only if you want to be. Learned that the hard way.” 

Daisy cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to be protected, not completely or all the time. I pick fights, I stand up for my beliefs, and I protect others. But whether I want it or not, he always makes sure I’m safe. And the happiness thing? Your happiness and your relationship don’t have a correlation. I was happy before we got together and I wasn’t that much happier when we did, not that I wasn’t happy. I just.” Steve sighed. “Never mind. Just know you have to want those things before someone else can give them to you. You’ll get it later.” Steve ran a hand over his hair and hunched forward a little more. 

Daisy nodded. “Are they fun?”

“They should be, if you want them to. Thing about it is, you have to find the right person for you. They should be your best friend, first and foremost, and it needs to be mutual.” Steve took a swig of his coffee before he continued, “The goal is to be happy. You want them to be happy, but you also want to be happy. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does,” Daisy said, just as their food was placed in front of them.

“There something you want to share?” Steve smirked. 

A blush blanketed Daisy’s face as she giggled into her food. She straightened up and put on a real serious look. “You can’t tell anyone, not even Bucky,” she said as she pointed her fork at him. 

“I won’t. I promise.”

Daisy nodded and took a deep breath, her stern expression evaporating. “There’s this boy-”

“Not a boy,” Steve gasped, scandalized.

“Yes, a boy!” Daisy giggled. “His name is Josh and he’s in my class. He’s real sweet and makes me laugh and he has the cutest dimples! He asked me to go to his house to study the other day and it was really fun,” she gushed. “I think I’m in love.” 

“Steve had to bite his tongue to stop himself from cooing. “He sounds nice.” 

“He  _ is _ !” she practically squealed. The other patrons looked over curiously, causing the two to blush and fall into a fit of giggles. “Oh, Stevie, you’d love him! He’s got really pretty brown eyes and. . .” Daisy continued to talk about Josh as they finished their meals, paid, and left the diner. 

And then Steve was walking Daisy back to her house and returning to his own, lonely apartment. 

He almost passed the mailbox without checking it. What a mistake that would have been. . .

Steve absentmindedly checked the mail and flipped through the envelopes as he walked up the stairs to the apartment. Until an envelope addressed to a ‘Gracie Rogers’ in a familiar scrawl caught his eye. It took him far too long to understand that ‘Gracie’ was him. He scrambled up the stairs and into the house, the door slamming shut behind him unapologetically. Steve ripped open the envelope and planted himself on the couch, already tearing up.

_ Dear Gracie, _

_ I miss you so much, babydoll. It’s weird not having you around. Guess I got used to having you under my arm, in more ways than one. It’s really weird when I wake up in the middle of the night to check on you and you aren’t there. . .  _

_ Training isn’t too bad. It’s a lot like gym at school, but with angry coaches. Most of the guys here are real assholes. They all deserve a good right hook to the jaw, but I ain’t about to cause trouble. I’m just trying to get my shit done and come home to you.  _

_ I did meet this man, couple years older than me, that you’d love. One of the funniest guys you’d ever meet, his name’s Timothy, but thanks to the Lieutenant we all call him Dum Dum. He’s the only guy I can stand here. Maybe you’ll meet him one day.  _

_ God, I miss you. I haven’t been sleeping all that well, sick to death worrying about you. I hope you’re taking care of yourself and you’re not going out and playing hero to every kicked puppy and sick child out there.  _

_ Be a little selfish for me, keep yourself safe and healthy at least till I get home. _

_ I don’t know when you’re getting this. Has Christmas come and gone or are you days away? Either way, I hope you don’t spend the day sulking. Go to the hospital and volunteer, that always makes you happier. Or go bother my folks or Becky or Eugene and Daisy. Please try and enjoy the holiday for me. It’d make me feel better knowing you’re happy, love.  _

_ Oh, don’t think I forgot your present either. I’ll give it to you when I get home, we’ll have a mini Christmas all to ourselves. Maybe give you some presents of a different kind. . . _

_ I gotta get going, babydoll. Remember, it’s just a few more weeks, then I’ll be home. I love you so fucking much. Can’t wait to see those pretty blue eyes again.  _

_ Love, Buck xxx _

_ P.S. Not even a little sorry about the name. It was your idea, anyways punk. I just put a little more thought into it. See ya Rogers. xx _

Steve gave a watery laugh and wiped at his eyes with the hand not holding the letter. “Dammit Buck. Makin’ me cry and you’re not even here. Such a jerk,” he mumbled. 

He read that letter every night before bed and curled up with Bucky’s pillow. It helped him get through his daily routine. And if he wore one of Bucky’s sweaters or shirts, it wouldn’t be the first time. 

  
Besides, it was only a few more weeks. . .

 

 


	17. 1943

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters after this, guys! Then the epilogue and we're on to the next book!! This one turned out to be way longer than I expected (word count wise at least). Hopefully for Our Now I can keep the same momentum and style of this story while changing the format. We'll see! 
> 
> Remember this is unedited! Edits will be coming soon!
> 
> Disclaimer: All translations are from Google Translate and are listed at the bottom. Feel free to correct me!

_Chapter Fifteen_

**1943**

"It was real nice meeting you, Barnes," Dum Dum practically boomed.

Bucky chuckled and shook his hand. "Good to meet you, too, Dugan. You've made these few weeks bearable.

"Someone's gotta keep you out of trouble. Now let's go," Dum Dum pushed him lightly. "Your girl's probably dyin' to see you. I know mine is."

Bucky stumbled a little at the impact, a soft laugh vibrating out of his chest. "Okay, okay. I'm going. Keep in touch, yeah?"

Dum Dum beamed, already walking towards the other bus. "You bet. Feel free to come visit me anytime. 'M sure Darla won't mind." Bucky rolled his eyes and waved him off.

It was a long bus ride back to Brooklyn. Bucky tried to sleep and when he couldn't, he pulled out his worn copy of _The Great Gatsby_ that Steve had gotten him eight years ago. (It was his go to, like a security blanket.)

The bus couldn't go fast enough.

They dropped him off a few blocks away his from his apartment, but Bucky didn't mind. He just wanted to go home.

The door was unlocked when he got to the apartment. 'Steve must have taken the day off for me,' he thought as a cocky, yet giddy smirk spread across his face. The house was spotless, everything was in its place like usual. But something felt off. "Steve?" he called and his duffle bag dropped to the ground, forgotten, with a gentle thud.

The bedroom door creaked open, but the person who stepped out wasn't Steve. "Pops? What are you doing here?"

George sighed and gave him a tight smile. "Welcome back, Bucky. How was it? You learn anything useful?"

"It was fine," Bucky said suspiciously. "Why the hell were you in my room?"

"First of all, I thought it was Steve's-"

"It is. We share a room. Why were you looking for Steve's?" Bucky clarified as panic crept into his throat and chest, choking the air out of his lungs.

George pinched the bridge of his nose, his other hand splayed in front of in exasperation. "Will you let me speak, dammit!" The older man sighed and rubbed at his face. "I thought it was Steve's room and I was trying to get this list of stuff to take back to him," George handed Bucky a folded piece of paper, "I didn't realize you boys shared a bedroom, much less a bed."

"Steve's breathing gets bad most nights, can't sleep. Not to mention he can't hold heat all that well. Gets sick way too easy," Bucky mumbled as he looked over the grocery lists of Steve's things. "What's all this about?"

"James," George started, "Steve is sick. He's been in the hospital for a couple of days now, he's not doing so well. Doctor says he'll be okay in a few days, as long as he makes progress. Winnie thought Steve might feel better if he had some of his things at the hospital, in case-"

"Don't." Bucky snapped, his hands balled into fists beside him. "Don't you dare finish that thought."

"James, you're being irrational. He's got pneumonia, there's always a chance he could pass-"

"Shut the fuck up, dad! Just stop!" Bucky pushed past him and started to grab the supplies on the list. George stayed in his place in the middle of the living room and watched as Bucky scrambled with ease to get all of Steve's things, plus some. "What hospital is he at?" He demanded, the bag in hand, still in his uniform.

George told him all the information Bucky would need and the boy was out as fast as possible.

He didn't even stop to talk with the receptionist. He didn't stop until he reached the door George had said was Steve's. Bucky took a second to calm his breathing and to see if he couldn't hear Steve or his mother's voice through the cracked door.

"Bucky, you're home!" Rebecca cheered from down the hall, where a nice little waiting room sat. There was so much going on around him and in his head that Bucky barely heard her. "It's nice to have you back." She hiked Rose up on her hip, a warm smile on her face.

"Thanks," he mumbled distractedly. "You seen him? He okay?" Rebecca's smile turned sympathetic and when she opened her mouth, Bucky just knew what she was going to say. His shoulders tensed, his body language almost aggressive. "Not you, too," he hissed.

She sighed. "It's not like we want it to happen, but unlike you, everyone else has accepted the fact that Steve might not make it to twenty-five long ago. It's a miracle he's lasted this long. You should know that." Rebecca took a step back, ready to head to the waiting room. "You need to get with the program, Bucky. He's not gonna live forever and everyone - but you, apparently - understands that. Just prepare yourself for the worst while you hope for the best, okay?" With that, she carried Rose back to the waiting room. George followed after he gave a reassuring squeeze to Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky was pissed. He was upset and furious about all this. How could anyone give up on Steve like this? Do they even know him? Don't they realize that nothing stops him? Not even his damn lungs can make him take it easy. This is Steve Rogers, the boy who survived year after year because he was too stubborn to give in to his illnesses. The same kid Bucky took care of and protected with all his might, to ensure these type of situations wouldn't happen in the first place. . .

And it did, because he wasn't there.

Bucky took a shaky breath, plastered on a cocky grin, and knocked on the door. "Come in," his mother called. The brunet pushed open the door and stepped inside. It took everything in him not to breakdown at the sight of Steve laying in the bed, his skin a sickly pale and dark shadows hanging from his eyes.

But a giant grin split his face that brightened up the dull, dreary room in an instant.

"Bucky! You're home!" Steve wheezed as he tried to get up.

Bucky rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, the duffle bag he brought with now by his feet. "I leave for a few weeks and you land yourself in the hospital? C'mon Stevie, I thought you were better than that!"

Steve's sweet laugh - the one that melted Bucky's heart - turned into a nasty cough. Bucky and Winifred were by his side in an instant, talking him through it and easing him back down into the bed once it was over.

"I'll let you boys catch up. Did your father get what I asked?" Winifred said quietly, already heading to the door.

"Yeah, I made sure he brought it." Bucky pointed the bag lying near the bed. He turned to Steve and winked, "Even snagged your charcoal set. Figured you were losing your mind stuck in here."

Steve beamed at him as the door clicked closed. "I missed you," he whispered.

Bucky smiled, his right hand moving to smooth the hair off of Steve's sweaty forehead. "I missed you too, babydoll." The older boy leaned forward to press his lips against Steve's head and lingered, just for a moment. "Missed you so much."

He settled back down in his seat on the side of the bed and took one of Steve's hands in both of his. "Everyone seems convinced this is it," Bucky admitted.

Steve nodded, a sad smile on his face. "I know. They haven't told me outright, but I got a feelin' they were trying to subtly say goodbye."

"You ain't leavin' me." Bucky's bottom lip trembled slightly, just enough for Steve to notice.

The blond lifted his free hand to cup Bucky's face. "I know. This ain't the end of the line, yet. It's gonna take a lot more than a little cough to keep me away from you."

Bucky chuckled and brought up a hand to press over Steve's. "I know."

It took Steve a week to gain his full strength back and get over the illness. Bucky stayed by his side the entire time and together, they proved everyone wrong.

And they'd do it again and again until the end of the line.

~*~*~*~*~

Bucky buttoned up his shirt and smoothed out the wrinkles. "Don't wait up, okay?"

"You know damn well I can't go to sleep without you. I worry too much," Steve said, not looking up from his book. He was curled up in bed, Bucky's pillow tucked under his arm to support the book. "Where are you even going tonight?"

"Double-date with a buddy of mine from down at the docks. He's setting me up with his cousin. She doesn't live around here so she doesn't know about you. We won't have another 'Molly' incident, I can tell you that." Bucky shook his head and sighed. He tucked in his shirt, buttoned up his slacks, and fastened his belt. "This look decent?"

Steve glanced up over his book and grinned. "You always look good."

Bucky threw his dirty socks at the blond who shrieked with laughter. "Such a sap," Bucky exasperated. Steve giggled as he climbed out of bed. "Why are we even together? Why do I even bother with your stubborn ass when all you do is take all sappy like." He gathered the smaller man in his arms, his hands bracketing Steve's hips.

"You love it," Steve hummed as his arms wrapped around Bucky's neck.

"Yeah," Bucky whispered. His lips hovered over Steve's, almost touching. "Guess I do." His chin nudged forward and their lips pressed together in the sweetest of ways. They kept kissing, standing in the middle of their bedroom in each other's arms.

Steve pulled away. "Go on before you're late," he said quietly. Bucky stole another kiss and squeezed his tight, before he was on his way.

With the house to himself, Steve spent the night working. Bucky's birthday was only a month away and Steve wanted to give him the perfect present. He'd bought a leather bound journal and spent the fast few weeks filling the pages with recreations of past pictures he'd drawn for Bucky, new ones in charcoal, new sketches - some even in color, and little notes he'd written him.

He poured his heart into it. He needed it to be perfect.

Steve worked for hours, filling page after page. When he stopped, it was almost three in the morning. He carefully shut the book, cleaned up his supplies, and finally got ready for bed.

Nights like these, when Bucky would go out and dance with his friends, Steve really did try to sleep. It was just. . . He'd get cold and there was too much space, not to mention his sheets smelled like Bucky. And when his asthma would annoy him in the middle of the night, Bucky wouldn't be there to coax him through it.

Nonetheless, Steve climbed into bed and curled up against Bucky's pillow.

Twenty minutes later, Bucky trudged through the doors. He was loud, as per usual when he'd been drinking for hours, and his groans and curses woke Steve up.

The blond climbed out of bed and yawned, his own exhaustion catching up with him. "Buck?" He called as he walked into the living room.

Bucky stood by the couch, swaying a little with his eyes unfocused. "Hi Stevie," he slurred without looking up. Bucky held onto the couch and blinked hard and slow. Steve gently pried his hands of the couch, taking some of the weight off Bucky. "You smell good," the brunet mumbled into Steve's bed head (he hadn't even been laying down for long and his hair was already a mess?) and sniffed. "Love my Stevie."

"I love you too, but we gotta get some sleep. Yeah? You'll feel better in the morning." Steve started to guide Bucky towards their bedroom, his eyes flickering from Bucky's heavy feet to the path in front of them. They really needed to do laundry given that half of their collective wardrobe was littered on the floor. Steve did his best to keep Bucky from stepping on anything as they made their way to the bed.

"Stevie, you're pretty. Like really pretty. Wish I could show the world how pretty you are. Ain't nobody seeing you like I do. Damn shame," Bucky growled, his nose scrunched in disgust.

Steve bit his lip and nodded along to his words. "That so?"

"Yeah!" Bucky exclaimed with a sharp sniffle. "They don't see you how they should. Don't get to see your smile when you're not thinking about it or your cute little ass that's as pale as the moon or how you look in one of my sweaters," Bucky was rambling off all the things he found attractive about Steve, from his "fluffy hair" to his "freezing toes." Steve just smiled and did his best to wrestle Bucky out of his clothes and shoes.

Bucky sniffled every few words, his nose twitching. At first, Steve thought it was a cute little quirk he had somehow missed before. But as Bucky leaned back against the pillows and Steve had curled up to his chest, he noticed a small dusting of white powder on the edge of Bucky's nose.

Steve scrambled away, his eyes wide in horror.

"No," Bucky whined, "come back."

"Bucky," Steve demanded, "are you high?"

Bucky huffed and crossed his arms over his bare chest. "No," the man pouted.

"Bucky," Steve warned.

"I'm not! I promise!" Bucky whined, sitting up a little. "I'm drunk, yeah, but my high's already gone."

Steve shook his head and climbed out of bed. "I'll talk to you in the morning." With that, Steve walked back into the living room and got right back to work on his project.

He never fell asleep.

Bucky woke up at ten with a groan, his head pounding and his nose running. "Mornin' Steve," he mumbled as he stumbled into the living room.

Steve didn't reply. He stayed where he was, curled up against the arm of the chair with bloodshot, tired eyes and his hand numbly sketching the sunrise. He'd finished his project an hour ago, but he couldn't go to sleep, not with his mind going a mile a minute.

"What'd you do last night? You sleep okay? I didn't wake up when I came in did I?" Bucky asked from the kitchen, his voice quiet and his movements slow. He moved around the kitchen, making a thing of toast, completely oblivious to the tension radiating off Steve. Bucky carried his toast over to the couch and sat on the other arm, his feet outstretched towards Steve. "Babydoll?" He asked, his toes nudging against Steve's thigh.

The blond stood up and walked to the recliner, back turned to Bucky.

Bucky ate his toast in silence with a furrow in his brow. He desperately tried to figure it out, to think about why Steve wasn't talking to him. But everything that came to mind, didn't seem right. They were okay last night, what happened?

"Steve? You mad at me?" Bucky set the plate on the coffee table and knelt on the ground, crawling over to Steve's recliner. "Babydoll, talk to me. Tell me what's goin' on."

"Last night," Steve croaked. He set the sunrise sketch onto the coffee table and sat up, still not looking at Bucky. "You came home completely plastered. That's not too terrible. That I'm used to. It's the fact you used again that really pisses me off."

Bucky sighed. "Steve-"

"No, Buck," Steve spat as he finally looked to him. "I can handle you drinking. I can handle you smoking. I can handle you going out on dates with women and going off just about every night. I can handle that stuff. I can't handle the drugs. I just. . . I can't. I don't like them. I think they're gross and it's unattractive. You get that, don't you?" Steve angrily wiped at his face, his tears slipping past his fingers.

"I do," Bucky started, "but it was just at the club and they offered. 'Sides, it was a one time thing."

"Bullshit!" Steve screamed as he jumped up off the recliner. "You promised, Buck! You said you'd never do that shit again!" Steve bellowed, tears and snot all over his face.

Bucky stood up, his hands held in defense. "Steve, listen, I promise I won't do it again. I really do."

Steve rolled his eyes and pushed past him. "Whatever. You just don't want me to be mad at you." The bedroom door slammed behind him, rattling the apartment.

And that's how they left it, with words left unsaid and problems pushed under the rug. . .

~*~*~*~*~

Things were tense for Steve and Bucky. With the possibility of Bucky getting his orders, Steve still regaining his strength after another bout of the flu, and the aftermath of Bucky's extracurricular activities, things didn't seem okay despite all of the reassurances they gave one another.

Things were off.

But that didn't stop Steve from planning Bucky the best birthday he could.

"What are we doing today?" Bucky asked as they walked down the street.

"You'll see." Steve ducked his head, a playful smirk teasing his pouty lips.

Bucky nudged his shoulder, hands stuffed in his pockets. "C'mon Stevie. You know I don't like secrets."

Steve shrugged. "You'll live."

"This isn't how you treat someone on their birthday, " Bucky pouted.

Steve didn't respond. He simply kept walking, but as they grew closer to their destination it was harder to keep it a secret. If Steve didn't tell him, Bucky would-

"Are we going to Coney Island?" Bucky gasped. Steve simply grinned, his posture losing the tension he'd been harboring between his shoulders. Bucky tackled the smaller man in a hug, a sweet melody of surprise laughter echoed in Steve's ear. "You're the best! Oh god, I can't wait."

"Relax, Buck. We ain't even there yet!"

"So?" Bucky let Steve go for the most part. He kept an arm draped across his shoulders as they walked towards the subway. "I'm practically buzzing. You ain't gonna puke, are you?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "No, Buck. I'm not gonna puke."

"Promise?" Bucky smirked.

The blond hesitated. "I'm. . .not gonna promise anything." Bucky chuckled, vibrating with laughter. "I'll try not to, but," Steve shrugged.

"Stevie, you know I don't care."

Steve nodded, glanced around them, and quickly pecked the underside of Bucky's jaw. "I do. 'S why I love you."

Bucky grinned through the blush. "I love you too, babydoll," he mumbled under his breath.

Both of them were panicking just a little, their hearts pounding and their palms sweating. Showing any sign of affection in public always boosted their adrenaline. It was so risky and wrong, oh so wrong, but it felt exhilarating. The idea that anyone could see them, could call the police or have them killed. . .it was addicting.

But both men had enough sense not to push their luck.

They spent the day at Coney Island, riding all of Bucky's favorite rides (and _Steve_ didn't puke once!) and ate all of his favorite foods. Bucky even won a few teddy bears ("You get the biggest, Stevie. I'll give the other two to Rose and Daisy. Think they'll 'ppreciate 'em." "I think they'll love 'em. I know I will."). Once the sun set, the boys made their way to Bucky's parents' place for dinner with the Barnes'.

"Today's been amazing, Stevie," Bucky whispered as they walked home.

"Good. You deserve it." Steve bumped into him lightly, "But it's not over yet. C'mon."

Bucky stopped, eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Steve grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet. "We're going dancing."

"Aw, Steve. I love dancin' 'n all, but I'd rather go home and spend the night with you. Finish it off the right way." Bucky winked at him and threw an arm over his shoulders.

"You sure? Figured it's been awhile since we visited that little hole in the wall you fell in love with. The one for queers?" Steve smirked.

Bucky's smile grew mischievous. "Well, when you put it that way. . . Let's go babydoll."

They danced the night away. Bucky swung Steve around, spinning him on all the right notes. Steve tried desperately to keep up and to keep himself from stumbling over Bucky's feet. But Bucky didn't care, because he got to hold Steve in his arms in the middle of a crowded dance hall like he was any other man.

So they danced and danced and danced until the club shut down for the night early the next morning.

"You are incredible. I ever tell you that?" Bucky asked as he held Steve tighter against his bare chest. "And I mean in general, not just in bed. Which, by the way, you are also incredible at."

Steve giggled, his nose scrunching just a little as he nuzzled into the crook of Bucky's neck. "You may have, once or twice."

"That's not enough. Steven Grant Rogers, you are the best person I have ever met. I ain't ever met someone as great as you in any sense of the word." Bucky pressed a kiss to Steve's sweaty hair and smiled. "I love you so much. You have no idea how much you mean to me. How far I'd go to keep you safe, you know that? I'll always protect you, Stevie. No matter where I am or what I'm doing, I'm always protecting you. You remember that, okay?"

"I know. You don't have to remind me to remember things when it comes to you. I can't forget a thing 'bout you." Steve kissed at Bucky's neck before he pulled away entirely, climbing out of bed. Bucky whined, rolling over to watch Steve walk across the room in absolutely nothing. "I gotta get something, relax," Steve chided. Bucky pouted, his eyes trained on Steve as the smaller man reached up to the top shelf of their closet and pulled down a leatherbound journal of sorts with a bunch of uneven papers sticking out.

Bucky hummed, "Whatcha got there?"

Steve smiled and climbed back into bed, sliding in beside him. "Oh, you know, just your birthday present." Bucky grinned and kissed Steve's cheek all wet and sloppy like. "Here," Steve chuckled, "take it."

Gently, Bucky opened the journal to find the first picture Steve ever drew for him tucked inside, yellowed and smudged but still in one piece. "Steve-"

"It's all of them. Every birthday that I've known you and given you a drawing for your birthday - except for your eighteenth since you got Gatsby instead. All of them in one place. Plus a ton more and some notes and stories and rainy day letters and. . .yeah." Steve leaned against Bucky's shoulder, tense and embarrassed for no reason at all. "Figured you'd like it. That ways, if you do end up, um, leaving, you can take it with you easier than taking that damn box you had."

Bucky was in tears when he closed the book and tackled Bucky in a hug. "God dammit punk!" He cursed, his voice watery. "Makin' me cry on my damn birthday. What kinda boyfriend are you?"

Steve giggled and ran a hand through Bucky's messy hair. "A pretty good one if you're this pleased." He kissed his temple and closed his eyes. "You have a good birthday?"

"You bet, babydoll. All thanks to you." Bucky whispered. He looked up and leaned forward enough to kiss Steve as best as he could.

If only they knew that was the last time they'd be truly happy. . .

~*~*~*~*~

The door slammed open and Steve burst through, a giddy smile on his face. "Buck? You home yet?" He called, the door carelessly shutting behind him.

Bucky sighed, still in his uniform with a bag packed beside him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands and his elbows resting on his knees. Steve called his name again, his light footsteps growing louder. "I'm here," Bucky groaned from behind his fingers.

Steve walked inside, shaking with excitement. "Hey, how was your night?" he asked, desperately containing whatever happiness that had fallen upon him.

Bucky shrugged, eyes glued to the floor. That seemed to sober Steve up tremendously. "What happened?" Steve sat beside him, a comforting hand resting on his shoulder. Bucky shrugged it off and stood. "Buck?"

"Don't, Steve," he grumbled.

"Don't what?'

"Don't try and comfort me!" Bucky snapped, his hands in his hair.

Steve sat there, stunned. He watched as Bucky paced the room. ' _Where did the day go wrong? He was fine at the fair, even when I left. . ._ ' Steve thought.

The day had started out fine, normal really. They went to work, Steve to the paper and Bucky to the docks. Then after work, Steve went down to the recruitment office on the off chance he could get in (he was down to five attempts now and Bucky was not to find out about it) before he went down to the pictures (that was his excuse as to where he was when Bucky asked. . .). It was supposed to be relaxing, to get him out of the slump he was in with the newest 4F stamp. Until he got into a fight with some disrespectful oaf behind the theater. That's when Bucky caught back up with him, swooping in to save him like he somehow always did dressed in his military uniform. He announced to him that he got his orders with a proud look on his dashing face. Steve wasn't thrilled, but its not like they had much of a choice. So Steve let Bucky drag him off to the World Exposition ("Where are we going?" "The future.")

Maybe it was the fact Steve attempted to enlist twice in one day? Maybe Bucky got into it with the girls, trying to defend Steve's choices? Maybe he was just upset about getting drafted? Maybe-

Steve couldn't think of anything else.

"What happened? Did I say something wrong?" All the giddiness Steve had vanished. Bucky was mad or upset or something and Steve didn't know why.

Bucky ran a hand over his face. "I can't do this, Steve. I just can't do this anymore."

"Do what? Buck, what are you talking about?"

"Us, Steve! I'm talking about us," Bucky hollered. He turned away, a hand over his mouth. When Bucky turned back around, his eyes were red. "I just can't."

Steve couldn't breath and for once it felt like a normal reaction. . . His brain was in overdrive, just trying to catch up.

Bucky continued, "Tonight was my breaking point, Stevie." He sighed and gestured off to the side with one of his arms, the other on his hip. "You ran off to be a goddamn hero, knowing you could get arrested all for your own self-righteous benefit. I can't take it anymore! I don't want to have to babysit you."

That's when Steve found his voice. "You don't have to, Buck! I'm a grown ass man, not some skinny little kid that you gotta look out for. I don't need you to take care of me."

"Then why do I waste nights taking care of you when you're sick? Why do I gotta watch where you go incase you get your punk ass in trouble? I couldn't even leave you alone for an afternoon without you picking a fight! I couldn't even leave for training without you landing yourself in the hospital! Hell, you can barely walk up the stairs without dying!"

Steve jumped up from the bed, his anger bubbling as he squared up to Bucky. ' _This is stupid. This could be the last time you see him- No, don't think like that_ ,' Steve thought as he glared up at Bucky. His incredible, thoughtful, beautiful Bucky. . . "I have never asked you to take care of me. Never. You're the one who insists. You're the one who won't let me leave the room because I have a cough. - And yes, I love when you take care of me. I do," Steve nodded along with his words. "Because it shows you care about me, that you love me as much as I love you." He pushed at Bucky's chest lightly, enough to emphasize his words.

They were both crying silent tears, both breathing heavy, but neither of them could stop themselves. They stood a foot apart, blue eyes searing into grey.

Bucky looked out of place in his uniform, but Steve couldn't help himself appreciate it. Bucky wasn't a soldier. He didn't want to go fight someone else's war, unlike Steve. But he was willing to if need be. He'd get what needed to be done, done.

Maybe that's what was happening.

"Steve," Bucky started, "we're done. I can't- I won't put up with this anymore. I don't want to. I want to be in a relationship I can enjoy. Y'know, one that I don't have to sneak around for or tell blatant lies to protect both our hides. I'm tired of it, Steve. All of it. At first, it was nice - thrilling, even - but now? It's just aggravating. And the sad truth is, we would never last. We would have to go find dames to marry and-"

"Don't even start with that bullshit," Steve barked. "Be a fucking man and tell me the real reason you want out." Bucky glared at him, and as if in slow motion, his features fell in defeat. Steve harrumphed, "See? You don't even have a rea-"

"I don't love you," Bucky blurted out. He cleared his throat and continued, "I don't love you anymore. Haven't for a while. Haven't been happy with you for even longer."

The world around them turned to ice. Everything around Steve looked as if the color had been drained, melting into a puddle dull nothing. There was a bitter bite to the air now and Steve's bottom lip began to tremble.

The blond shook his head. "No," he denied, "that's bullshit. You're lying to me. You- I- No!" Steve cried as he backed away like a wounded animal, his breath coming out in wheezy gasps.

And then the first sob wrenched out of him. He fell to the floor, mumbling a string of "No, you're lying, no, no, this is all some twisted nightmare. . ."

Bucky could only watch in horror as Steve broke, completely shattering in front of him. And it was all his fault. He hurt - is hurting - Steve like this. ' _Dammit, Barnes. What kind of sick son of a bitch does this? What made you think_ this _was such a good idea?_ ' Bucky's brain was still trying to process everything, his words and actions included. ' _This was the best option, remember that. We'll both be better because of this. I'm surprised he didn't catch my bachelor comment earlier. . .I just wish I didn't have to lie to him. . . It's not like Steve can argue your feelings. He'll try, you know he will. Stubborn ass punk won't stop fighting. Hopefully he never will._ '

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you-"

"Bullshit," Steve sobbed. "That's fucking bullshit. You can't be sorry. You don't get to be sorry. I-" a handful of sobs racked through his body. "I just don't understand."

Bucky bent down to pick up the discarded duffle he had packed and moved towards the door. "What's to question? I don't love you. I'm leaving, getting shipped to England first thing tomorrow. We're done. This is the end of the line, pal. Okay? Goodbye, Steven."

Steve scrambled up and raced after him. "You can't just leave! Not after you ripped my fucking heart out! You're such a fucking coward, Barnes," Steve spat.

The brunet sighed and his head fell. He didn't look back at Steve, couldn't. "I can, Steve. I walk out this door and we go our separate ways. I'll go off and fight this godforsaken war and you can go off to find a nice girl who will love you like I couldn't. Start a family, live a life that we couldn't have. Just. . .be happy."

"But I was happy with you!" Steve cried, tempted to reach out and touch his soldier. He just wanted to hold him, making him stay and comfort him through this awful nightmare. . .

Bucky chuckled, wet and humorless. "But I wasn't happy with you. We're done. Bye, Steve." With that Bucky left.

Steve fell to the floor with a loud thud as his body shook with sobs. He curled in on himself, crying into his hands until he couldn't breathe.

It went on in waves. He cry as hard as he could for a few minutes, stop to calm himself and do his breathing exercises so he wouldn't have an attack, only to be hit with another wave of pain. It took him an hour - at least - to stop the sobs and even then his breathing was still watery and shaky. And now his head pounded from crying for so long. Hell, he was still crying softly.

Watery blue eyes glared helplessly at the door. "I don't even know what I did wrong," he mumbled.

Eventually, he willed himself to stand and stumble over to the bedroom. Another round of tears poured as the scene flashed behind his eyes. ' _I don't love you anymore. Haven't for a while. Haven't been happy with you for even longer._ ' He climbed into the bed and curled in on Bucky's pillow, the lingering scent of their shampoo and Bucky's cheap cologne filling his senses (which only made him cry harder). ' _We're done. This is the end of the line, pal._ '

"I didn't even get to tell him I got in," Steve cried into the pillow. He fell asleep that way, wrapped up in blankets and curled up into Bucky's pillow on Bucky's side. It was the first time he genuinely cried himself to sleep and something told him it wouldn't be the last either.

At least he got in.

~*~*~*~*~

Steve climbed into his assigned bunk, his body aching from the day's work. This whole process amazed him. Just last week he was some puny, heartbroken punk and now he's apart of a top-secret experiment to create the perfect soldier.

His mind was still reeling from Dr. Erskine's visit. The speech the older man had given him didn't feel right. Steve couldn't believe the words; they made sense, but they didn't seem to fit him. Steve didn't really feel like a good man and not one who would be the perfect soldier that everyone wanted him to be.

Earlier in the day, before the doctor visited him in the barracks, the doctor had told him the plan. He talked about the scientific aspect, how the serum would affect him and what the side-effects could be. The doctor had even asked Steve if he had any questions, but Agent Carter was standing behind the doctor, watching Steve with a trained curiosity. How could Steve ask his pathetically weak questions when one of the most beautiful gals he'd ever seen was watching him?

But now, Steve really regrets letting his embarrassment and nerves get in the way. His brain won't shut up with all the unanswered questions and eh was too perplexed by Dr. Erskine's speech to ask his seemingly trivial questions.

He stared at the ceiling, arms behind his head as the questions floated about his head. _Would it hurt? Will he be awake or will they knock him out? Is it permanent or does he have to go through treatment multiple times a year to keep the serum updated? How much changes physically? Is it immediate or does it take a few days to sit in before the serum begins to take affect? Does the change happen gradually or will he see a difference as soon as the serum's injected?_ The anxiety started to creep up his throat and his chest constricted just a little. _Is a surgery involved? Will he have to recover or can he get up and move around as soon the process is over? What happens if it fails? What if it kills him? What if he's stuck in this pathetic body forever?_

The worst part is, is the fact he's starving and could really use a drink right now. If anything it'd help him sleep.

' _Bucky always made sleeping easier-_ ' Steve started to think. He squeezed his eyes shut, ' _No. Don't start thinking about him. You're a bigger man than that. You don't need him to survive. You don't need him at all. You're a grown man. Show it._ '

Steve tucked himself into bed and rolled onto his side. 'Tomorrow's the start of a brand new life. You'll be a better version of yourself, that's what Erskine said anyways. Ma would be proud of you,' he paused, a smile playing at his lips. And then he was chuckling to himself, smiling into his pillow. ' _She'd be pissed. Probably would rip me a new one for thinking I need to take this serum to feel good about myself. "You survived this long without it, so you can survive another twenty-five without taking this dangerous serum," she'd tell me and maybe her accent would show just a little with how passionate she spoke. What I'd give to have her yell at me right now, only for her to pull me into a nice, warm hug and tell me she was on my side in all this._ '

As Steve started to drift off to sleep, the doors burst open and his roommates filled in from dinner with Gilmore Hodge trailing them. "Woo, boys would you look at that? Lil' Rogers is already asleep!" Hodge cackled. "Bet he can barely move after the workout we had today. If only it'd been a real grenade, then we wouldn't have to see such a sorry punk take up a bunk that a real man could have used."

The blond rolled his eyes and burrowed himself into the flat pillow and thin blanket. "Aw he's trying to hide!" Hodge reached out and snatched the blanket off him. Steve sighed. ' _Be the bigger man, Rogers. You've gotta rest, who knows what tomorrow's got in store._ '

Hodge and the rest of the men in the barracks were loud, rowdy, and obnoxious. Steve did his best to ignore them, to turn on his side so his good ear was against the pillow. Yet, Hodge still tried to aggravate him, to rile him up.

"Rogers, why are you even here? It ain't like Phillips is gonna let you in his army. We all can see that, why can't you?" Hodge sneered.

Steve took a deep breath and sat up, eyes squinted in a glare. "Will you shut up? For god's sakes, the only reason you and I are here, _Gilmore_ , is to be candidates for an experiment. Or did you forget that little fact?" Steve crossed his arms as everyone around them quieted down. Hodge glared down at him, ready to speak, but Steve cut him off as he continued. "Did you also forget the part where Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips picked me over you to be their new candidate? Or did you force yourself to forget that little fact?"

The tension building in the room felt ready to pop as Hodge stalked towards Steve. "You only got picked 'cause they felt sorry for you. Don't you dare forget that," the taller man sneered.

Steve rolled his eyes and laid back in his bed. And if he was more than a little proud of himself for shutting down Hodge and the rest of the soldiers, then no one could blame him.

The next day, Steve underwent his procedure. Dr. Erskine and Howard Stark (' _Bucky won't ever believe this. . ._ ') put him in some weird contraption and doused him in vita-rays. And boy did it hurt! The whole process was maybe only a minute or three, but Steve felt like it lasted for hours. Every muscle in his body was burning, his lungs heaving through the pain as his bones were stretched and pulled, and his jaw and temples ached from how hard he clenched his teeth.

But he powered through it. The doctor had tried to stop it, but Steve wouldn't let him. "No, I can do this!" he howled. Steve screamed as the rays were intensified and the pain doubled.

And then, with a minor explosion, it all stopped.

Steve panted, his chest heaving without a single wheeze or whistle. His hair was sticking to his forehead and his whole body felt sticky with sweat. He didn't even have the strength to open his eyes, not that he could see much in the container anyways.

The doors lifted and Steve was amazed to see an entirely different body attached to him.

Of course, that was before the Nazi shot Erskine and Steve had to chase him down Brooklyn.

It was later that night, once Agent Carter, Stark, and their team had finished their tests to try and recreate the serum, that Steve got the chance to be alone. Colonel Phillips sent him home, kicked him right out of the army, and now he was back to where he started, except for the fact he wasn't some skinny kid from Brooklyn.

He sat on the bed, the one he and Bucky shared for six years ( _six years_ ), and stared at the wall. What was he supposed to do? He had a meeting with Senator Brandt about doing something for the war effort, advertising bonds and being some sort of spokesperson. Brandt had said it was just as important as going overseas, but it didn't feel right. Then again, anything would be better than what he was doing before. . .

Things have changed, though. He's not some kid with asthma anymore. He's cured! He finally has some height and muscle to him. He finally doesn't look like a strong gust of wind would break him.

He could get a job at the docks? But that would only remind him of Bucky. . .

Not that the apartment didn't remind him enough.

He should move. Move away, maybe on the other side of Brooklyn. Hell, he could leave Brooklyn entirely if he wanted to. (He didn't want to.) Steve just needed to get out of here, leave Bucky and all the memories behind. That's what Bucky wanted him to do, anyways.

Steve needs to let go. Bucky doesn't want him, doesn't love him. There's no point in holding on to a lost cause. . .

Bucky wasn't just some boy he fell in love with, though. The grew up together, as close as brothers until they were old enough to realize what love was. They were best friends. You don't just forget your best friend.

But Steve could learn to accept it. When Bucky left, he didn't really have a chance to say his side of the story. He was too blindsided to actually have a conversation. . .

So Steve grabbed a pencil and an old sketchbook he had lying around and climbed started to write.

_Bucky,_

_Where did I go wrong? What could I have possibly done wrong? I don't even understand when this all started. . . Have you always felt this way? Or did this just develop? You seemed so happy, so in love, not more than a few weeks ago. Did I do something to hurt you? Or was it something else, something that didn't involve me?_

_I just want to understand._

_I need you more than ever right now. It hurts to know you aren't here, that you may never come back. And I'm not even talking about coming back from the war, that's what hurts the most. It's up to you whether you return to me or not. . ._

_Come home, please. I'll fix whatever it is. Hell, we can just be friends. Just come back to me. I need you._

_I got into the army. They wanted me to be a part of an experiment for a super soldier. Went through basic training and everything. They picked me, Buck. They picked little old Stevie Rogers to be their first super soldier._

_  
_ _And hell, it worked!_

_I can breath Bucky! I can breath and there's no whistle or rattle! I can breath and run and jump and laugh and everything. . . I'm finally healthy._

_I feel like a stranger, though. My body's huge now, all muscle and mass that I'm not used to. I feel clumsy. Hell, I chased after this Nazi and broke a store window trying to run after his car. . . But something tells me that would have happened with or without the serum._

_Would you even love me looking like this? Would you find me attractive now that I don't have such a small frame? Now that I look and feel like a man?_

_I wish you were here to see all this, to experience this with me. Because it's scary, if I'm honest. Maybe not as scary as whatever's going on over there, but it's not exactly fun over here either._

_You just make everything easier._

_I miss you so much, Buck._

_Please be safe. Please come home. Please don't leave me. Please. . ._

_I love you._

_Love,_

_Steve xxx_

A large tear splashed onto the paper as the pencil fell out of Steve's hand. He was shaking as the lump in his throat grew. And then, out of nowhere, he grabs the edges of the sketchbook and rips it down the middle. And he keeps ripping through the jagged sobs that tear through his throat. He was a mess, completely broken in a fit of rage and heartbreak. . .

He fell asleep among the paper shreds, his hands and face covered in smudges of granite and tear stains.

~*~*~*~*~

Steve walked into the building Senator Brandt had told him to visit. He's supposed to be discussing that advertising job, but he's really tempted to leave. . .

"Mr. Rogers!" Brandt announced as Steve entered the lobby.

"Morning, sir," Steve reached out to shake his hand.

Brandt grinned and pumped the blond's hand eagerly. "I just came down to tell my receptionist to send you up upon arrival. Didn't realize you'd be so punctual. I like that." Senator Brandt chuckled and began to guide him to the elevator. "We've got a nice little presentation set up for you to see and we'll go from there." The elevator took them up to the twelfth floor where Senator Brandt walked down a long hall into a conference filled with nondescript suited men.

Senator Brandt sat at the head of the conference table. "Please, have a seat Steve." Steve took a seat in the chair opposite Brandt as the senator addressed the other men. "Gentlemen, this is Steve Rogers and he wants to be a part of the war effort. Isn't that right, Steven?"

Steve's face grew red hot as he stumbled over his words, "Uh, yes sir."

One of the men to Steve's right pointed at him, a curious expression on his face. "Aren't you the man on the paper?" Another held it up, showing Steve with the taxi cab door in the center of the page.

He nodded, his face even warmer. "That would be me."

A murmur passed between the men before they all silenced at once, expectant stares targeted on Steve. Senator Brandt cleared his throat, momentarily getting their attention. "The paper is precisely why I believe Mr. Rogers is the perfect candidate to be our spokesperson."

More shuffling. Steve cleared his throat, his huge hand awkwardly rubbing his neck. "Sir, are you sure-"

  
"Positive. You're the strongest man alive, a true-born American, and - you'll love this, gentlemen - your birthday's on the Fourth!" Senator Brandt laughed and his colleagues echoed. "If that isn't a sign for you to take the job, then I don't know what is!"

Steve's brow furrowed as he squirmed in his seat. "To do what exactly?" He asked over the laughter.

Senator Brandt calmed down, the goofy grin on his face taking away some of his credibility. He snapped his fingers and a trio of patriotic show girls walked in. "Ladies," the senator motioned for them to do something.

Honestly Steve was beyond confused.

The girls in their USA helmets lined up in front of everyone and revealed a scroll of poster. The 'U' girl began to unravel it and a brightly decorated poster came to life.

" _Captain America: the hero Americans deserve_?" Steve read aloud. "That's what you want me to do?"

"No, Mr. Rogers, that's who we're asking you to become," the senator clarified.

Steve shook his head and sat up straight (his spine didn't curve anymore, he was actually sitting straight!). "I'm not sure I understand. . ."

The laughter dimmed, the men shuffled and squirmed. The senator chuckled dryly, an unamused expression scouring the area. "Look kid," the senator dropped his act, "you don't have a choice. You took the serum, became an honorary soldier, and I bought you - the idea of you and your contract - since we don't have anymore super soldiers. You do as we," he motioned to the blanked men, "say. That clear?"

Steve's jaw clenched. "Yes sir," he grumbled as politely as he could.

The smile reappeared on the senator's face. "Aces. Now, these beautiful gals are showcasing the uniforms for your showgirls-"

"Showgirls? Is that necessary?" Steve crossed his arms and leaned back. ' _I'm not about to let some pompous politician treat me like a child_ ,' he reminded himself. ' _I don't need a babysitter and I don't need someone to help me. Never have. Never will. Brandt's not about to take control._ '

The senator was losing his patience. "Yes. We want you to entertain. Full performances, complete with a full band, showgirls, and a chorus line. You will showcase your strength, give a few fake fights with some fake nazis, and voila! We got more money in our pockets!"

"And if I don't agree to be your ' _Captain America?_ '" Steve's jaw was clenched, his chin tilted upward in defiance.

"Then we have you arrested. Your military contract forces you to do this or get put in the service. Phillips doesn't want you, but I do. I got custody of your contract. Break it, you'll go to jail. Don't act like we won't charge you with lying on your enlistment forms. The senator stood with a sinister grin. "You have a fitting down the hall. Hope you like spandex." The senator walked out and the meeting was adjourned.

Steve followed the showgirls down to the fitting room, where a group of immigrant women were hovering over a bright red, white, and blue spandex suit. They tugged it on him, measuring along his inseam and his waist and his super broad shoulders (he felt like he was ripping his new t-shirts). "What do you think?" the petite czech lady asked sweetly.

He looked in the mirror, at his brand new body clothed in this red, white, and blue suit. The stars and stripes looked corny on him, the fabric poorly constructed on his torso, and his muscles were bulging out of the spandex. . . Steve felt uncomfortable, yet oddly at home. In this suit, he wasn't Steve Rogers. He was someone else, hidden behind the hood, mask, and shield. He could be anyone he wanted without people pestering him that he was "just some kid" or "too weak to do anything." And Steve was okay with that.

"Its. . . Captain America, alright."

~*~*~*~*~

The band was still playing when Steve stumbled off stage, sweaty from all the lights. "You did great, Rogers!" a stagehand called out. His cheeks hurt from smiling, but he waved nonetheless.

Cassie, a pretty little blonde USO girl, attached to his shieldless left arm. "You did so well tonight, Steven. The girls and I are really impressed with how far you've come."

With a full body blush (Steve didn't know if it was good or bad that he still blushed like crazy, if not more than before the serum. . . Bucky would probably love it- No, we can't think about him.) Steve gave her a softer smile and took her arm. "Thank you, that means a lot."

The young lady beamed and squeezed his bicep (which was weird all in itself. . . her hand barely - not really - fit around his lower bicep). "You should join us tonight. We're all going to get drinks before the bus leaves."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I've still got a signing and an interview-"

"But Steve, you deserve a break!" Cassie giggled.

He gave her a small, reluctant smile. "I'm sorry, Cassie. Maybe tomorrow night after the show?" It was the same excuse he'd been using since the tour started. Steve didn't really want to go out anymore and he especially didn't want to after a night of fake smiles and strong handshakes. For one, he was still uncomfortable with his new, hulking body. Second, it just didn't feel right to go out and pretend to be happy when he was far from it.

Then again, nothing's been right since Bucky broke things off.

Cassie sighed and nodded. "Okay, I get it. I can take the hint. Just know this experience doesn't have to be so lonely. If you let yourself have a little fun, you might not be so miserable." She let his arm go, spun on her heel, and scurried off to the other girls.

Steve sighed and made his way to the dressing room they'd given him. It wasn't that Steve didn't like his job, because he did - to an extent. It was just. . .awkward. Here he was, little Steve Rogers that no one cared about or respected, "a big star and a role model to America." It was just a difficult concept to grasp, especially when he was the subject of the issue.

He plopped down in the chair facing the little vanity in his dressing room. The night's anxiety was only growing. He still has to go down to the front and sign autographs and take pictures with fans then head over to an interview with a couple of local news reporters.

Steve had never had anxiety issues until he "took" Brandt's offer. . .

People had always judged him. Whether it be his size, health, his family (rather lack of), or the company he kept (read: Bucky) He was used to being judged, but this was entirely different. He couldn't stand up to the jackass who thought he was fragile or the lady who thought he and Bucky were hooligans when they were just walking down the street late at night. Steve was stuck letting them judge him, unable to defend himself just in case he offended someone. Because that, in Senator Brandt's words, would harm the bond sales. . .

' _Fuck the bond sales,_ ' he thought as he flicked the makeup brush across the table. ' _I just want my_ _freedom back._ '

He didn't have time to refresh and recuperate before a stagehand was dragging him off to the signings.

The line to see him was exhausting. Women and their small children lined up eagerly, shoving comics and newspapers at him for him to sign his name on. Then they were tackling him in hugs as a photographer snapped a photo. And as soon as one person left, another was there with their crying baby or a mess of loud toddlers waiting for Steve to give them attention.

And it went on, and on, and on, and on. . .

Steve was working on autopilot, his body going through the motions as his mind went numb with anxiety.

Until a warm embrace pulled him close and the smell of rosey perfume filled his senses that Steve actually felt something. Because no matter how different his body was, he'd remember the amazing hugs only Winifred Barnes could give.

When she pulled away, Steve flashed his first genuine smile at her. "Evenin' Mrs. Barnes."

Winnie slapped his bicep, a little amazed, and told him, "Steven, after all these years you'd think you'd learn to call me Winnie or Ma like the rest of the kids. Your Ma would understand, always use to call us the Power-Moms because of how much we raised the other's boy." Winnie's voice was welcoming as she praised his mother and Steve wanted nothing more than to breakdown in the woman's arms. "Now, I won't hold up the line much longer, but I brought the girls and George with me. They're all waiting for me out front. I figured we could take you out to dinner, visit with you before you leave the city again? Or do you have plans?"

"I'd love that," Steve breathed out.His cheeks ached from the smile he was flashing but he couldn't stop. "C'mere, let's get a picture." Steve wrapped an arm around her and turned her to face the camera.

It was only twenty minutes after Winifred came through the line that Steve was released. "There anyway we can take this in my dressing room?" He asked the interviewer. The man nodded and began asking Steve question after question about his private life and his opinions on the war effort.

Steve made sure he was the perfect, wholesome spokesperson.

Once the interview was over and Steve was dressed in his casual street clothes, he made his way to the lobby of the venue where the Barnes' women and George were waiting patiently.

"Well I'll be damned! It really is you, Steve!" George laughed as he shook Steve's hand with a surprisingly strong grip. Had he been holding out all these years?

"Are you sure you're Steve?" Becky asked, a skeptical eyebrow raised as she hiked Rose up on her hip.

"Pretty sure, but you know, I go by Captain America these days," Steve shrugged.

Daisy giggled and attached herself to his waist. "I missed you, Stevie! When are you coming home?"

Steve peeled her off him and bent down to look her in the eye. He hadn't had to to that in years. . . "I'm going on tour around the country for a few weeks, but I should be able to come home for Thanksgiving if you'd have me."

Winifred cuffed the back of his head. "Don't be stupid. You know well enough that you're more than welcome to have Thanksgiving dinner with us."

"You're going to have to make two meals. Look how big he's gotten! Probably eats twice as much as we all do," George laughed. Steve blushed and chuckled as he stood, a hand resting on Daisy's shoulder.

"What can I say? Muscle doesn't build itself, 'cept when it does." Steve shrugged.

Winifred hooked her arm with his and Daisy took his hand, the two pulling him out of the venue and into the cool summer air. "Let's go. It's getting late and we're starved."

They all went to the little Italian place down the street, where the owner gave them a healthy discount if Steve would sign a comic for his nephew. "This is all so surreal," Rebecca mumbled when the older man walked away, book in hand.

Steve sighed. "Believe me, I know."

"How'd all this," she waved at Steve's body, "happen anyway?"

The blond looked around and leaned in. "Top secret government project. Went and enlisted and a doctor asked me to partake in his experiment. Long story short, I no longer have asthma and I'm built like a house." Steve leaned back as Winifred gasped.

"It cured your asthma?"

Steve nodded. "And every other issue I've ever had. It fixed me back to perfect health and then improved beyond that."

"So all that stuff you were doing with those dancing girls was real? It wasn't just a show?" Daisy asked, leaning on Steve's arm.

"Nope. I really did lift that motorcycle. Pretty cool, huh?" Daisy nodded her head, pigtails bouncing along with her.

George cleared his throat. "What'd James say about all this?"

Steve took a long, calculated sip of his ice water. After a deep breath, he finally spoke about what happened. Kind of. "We actually aren't speaking at the moment. Well," he scrunched up his nose a little, "I don't think we are at least. We got into it the night he left. I'm not exactly sure what we were fighting over, but I don't think it was what we were actually fighting about. Besides, he's been gone for almost a month. That's hardly enough time to get settled over there for him to write a letter. I'll give him another month before I write to apologize and such."

"That's a shame," Winifred sighed. "You two were always so close. I always thought you two could get through anything, though. This is a hard time for all of us, you'll figure it out."  


"I hope so."

~*~*~*~*~

The flames from the explosion licked at Steve's boots and lower legs. He kicked against them, propelling his body as much as he could. ' _At least Bucky can get out okay_ ,' he thought as he felt a piece of debris hit his helmet.

The other side of the bridge felt miles away, but soon he was falling into the rail, his lower body swinging harshly against the rest of the bridge. "Steve!" Bucky screamed, his throat hoarse as the weak, haggard looking brunet scrambled to help him get on the bridge. Steve hefted himself up and over the railing, wincing a little as he felt the bruises forming along his waist and thighs. "Fuck, Steve! Are you a goddamn idiot?" Bucky hollered, his hands practically frisking Steve as he checked for any injuries.

"Buck, I'm okay. C'mon, we don't have much time," Steve said, catching Bucky's hands in his. The brunet nodded, a furrowed brow and a pout still evident among his panic. "We're gonna be okay, just follow me." Steve held Bucky's hand as he dragged him out of the building.

The ran, stumbling over each other, at full speed through the vacant halls. Their hands stayed clasped together until the sounds of German voices hollering, the flashes of blue light, and the sounds of gunfire hit Steve's ears. (That was when he realized his hearing was enhanced, given the fact it took another minute for Bucky to hear the noises too.) Steve kept Bucky tucked behind him, for once in his lifetime he wasn't the weaker of the two.

Steve did his best to get them out of the building before it exploded. By then, most of the fight was over. The two stumbled over to the where the men of the 107th and the other Allies were waiting, some battered and bruised and others needing immediate medical attention.

"Barnes!" the big mustached man from the cages boomed. "God bless, I thought you were dead." The man jumped down from the tank and scooped Bucky up in a big bear hug. Bucky hissed in pain and the man dropped him to the floor, eyes just a little wide. "Shit, what'd they do to you?"

"'M fine," Bucky shrugged it off. He turned to Steve, eyes narrowed and one eyebrow raised. "You on the other hand. . . How the hell did you make that jump? No," Bucky waved off his statement, "how the hell did you grow a foot and gain another hundred pounds in five months?"

"Wait," a British man asked, "you two know each other?"

Steve blushed and nodded, not bothering to answer the man's question. Instead, he turned to Bucky and told him, "Joined the army and they gave me this, um, serum. That's how."

Bucky crossed his arms, swaying just a little. "So what? You're some experiment now?"

"Super-soldier. That's what they call it," Steve said with a shrug.

Mustached man clasped a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Well, I'll be damned, Captain America. You sure did save our asses back there. Name's Timothy Dugan, but thanks to your buddy Barnes, everyone calls me Dum Dum," Dugan said with a grin, his free hand outstretched for Steve to shake.

"Captain America?" Bucky asked, his face a little green and his nose scrunched in the cutest way. Steve bit his lip and nodded. "How'd you get stuck with that name?" When Steve took too long to answer, Bucky rolled his eyes. "It was your birthday, wasn't it? It fits, in a way. Never thought I'd see the day you'd be wearing tights, though. You look like a pretty little dame ready to take the floor by storm. Need me to hold your earrings?"

Steve chuckled and shook his head. "Shut up, jerk. It wasn't even my idea, thank you very much." The blond reached over and wrapped an arm under Bucky's, subtly taking some of the weight off his friend's shaky legs without anyone noticing. Bucky absolutely hated for people to dote on him when he was physically hurt (but he was such a baby when he was sick, needing Steve to cuddle him close and feed him. Steve loved it.). "If it was, don't you think I'd come up with a cooler costume design?"

He didn't give Bucky a chance to respond before he introduced himself to the men formally. "Well Captain," Dum Dum started, "this here is James Falsworth," he clasped a hand on the British soldier before he pointed to the French man, "That's Jacques Dernier and Gabe Jones, who's the only one who actually speaks French here. And that's Jim Morita. Gabe, Jim, and I are in the 107th with your pal."

"Nice mee-" Steve didn't get a chance to finish his sentence when Bucky doubled over and vomited. The brunet gagged and heaved, doing his best to situate his body to aim his mess away from the men. Steve held him up, rubbing his back through it.

"We need to get him back," Jim said, "there's no telling what they did to him."

Steve nodded, barely listening. He was so focused on Bucky and making sure he was okay, he didn't realize the men were looking at him expectantly. "Is there a problem?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"Not at all," Gabe started, "we're just wondering what our orders are. Captain."

"Oh," Steve glanced around to the men and blushed. "I'm not- You guys- I-," he stopped himself. These men needed someone to lead them in the right direction. They needed him. Steve took a deep breath and glanced down at Bucky's sick form before he stood up a little straighter. "Dugan, get as many trucks as you can. Gabe, you and Dernier get a count of how many people need medical attention. The real serious cases get dibs on the trucks. Go from there. Morita and Falsworth, get a count of our supplies and round up everyone. We'll start heading to the base in twenty minutes."

"You heard the Captain, let's go!" Dugan boomed and the men dispersed, leaving Steve and Bucky standing on the edge of the battlefield.

Steve helped Bucky kneel down, a comforting hand still on his back while his other held up his torso. "You don't have to do this," Bucky groaned between gags.

"I know," Steve mumbled in a defiant tone, "but I want to."

"Why?" Bucky glared at him, the shock of seeing Steve (and especially like this) fading into the back of his clouded mind. "I broke your heart. You should hate me."

Sharp blue eyes bore into Bucky's. "Don't you ever," Steve warned, "think I could hate. I couldn't, nor would I, ever hate you of all people, Buck. You're my best friend first and foremost, the rest was just an added bonus."

Bucky shook his head and coughed, leaning into Steve's touch just enough for Steve to notice. The blond bit his lip to hide his grin as the weaker man groaned. "Dammit, Steve. You're too goddamn stubborn."

"You would know."

"Damn right I would. Now let's get a move on, I'm exhausted," Bucky grumbled.

Steve bit his lip. "Buck, maybe you should take it easy? You just puked your guts all over my boots." The boys glanced down to Steve's flimsy red boots covered in the contents of Bucky's stomach.

A warm blush spotted Bucky's flushed face. "Steve, I am so sorry-"

"Bucky, it's okay." Steve squeezed his shoulder, the only part of their bodies that were touching. "C'mon, take a breather. I'll get you back soon enough. Promise."

Bucky shook his head. "When did you become so. . .authoritative?"

"I think it's the suit," Steve shrugged and helped Bucky stand on his own feet again. Bucky's legs shook to the point he had to drape an arm across Steve's shoulders. The blond did his best to hide his enthusiasm or the smile that threatened to spread across his face. "How ya feeling?"

The brunet gave a small groan. "Been better. Little nauseous and a little out of it. Head's a bit fuzzy, not quite sure what's going on to be honest. I've been in and out a little."

"What do you mean?" Steve's brow furrowed as they walked towards the mass of soldiers edging towards the only road out.

"I, uh, don't really remember what's happening. Like, I get it. I'm not completely out of it," Bucky explained quietly, "but I don't remember what happened before I started to puke. Or what happened after you showed up. Or before. I'm not sure."

Steve stopped and looked at Bucky, eyes scrutinizing over every feature. "We'll figure it out," he finally reassured. "We just gotta get you back. Then they can look you over and help you fix whatever's wrong and we'll be okay. We always are."

Bucky glanced over at Steve, in silent awe at how different he looked, yet he was still the same punk he grew up with. His jaw still twitched the same way it used to whenever Steve was mad or in deep concentration, his lips were still the same shape, as was his nose, and his eyes were still the same bright blue that seemed to twinkle whenever he was happy. Everything was. . . enhanced. Still there, but different. It was like looking at a baby picture of a stranger and trying to find the similarities.

"We're ready when you are, Captain," Morita announced.

Steve took a deep breath and nodded. "Let's head out, then."

"You heard the Captain," Dum Dum hollered, "let's get a move on!"

Soon, Steve was leading hundreds of troops back to base. Bucky was by his side the entire time, still a little out of it. With every step, he grew more and more aware of the events and his surroundings. "So tell me this," he started, "did you have a plan or were you being a reckless dumbass like usual?"

The Captain shrugged. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you mean by that?"

"And what's with the tights? You going to a ballet after this? And don't you think that uniform's a bit. . .tacky?"

"Shut up," Steve rolled his eyes.

"Make me." Bucky crossed his arms, a mischievous smile on his face that didn't quite meet his eyes.

"I'm fixin' too. I'll knock your ass out and carry you back if I gotta."

"You wouldn't." Steve barely even stopped before he turned and slung Bucky over his shoulder effortlessly. The brunet let out an undignified squeal as his word flipped upside down, his head dangerously close to Steve's ass. "Dammit Steve! Put me down!" Steve marched on, the men around them chuckling to themselves at the antics of their new captain and his best friend the sergeant.

"Think I won't knock you out now?" Steve questioned, pausing to let Bucky go.

Bucky glared at him as he readjusted his dirty clothes. "Were you this insufferable before the war? Or is this the serum enhancing it?"

Steve laughed and marched on, Bucky quick to keep up the pace. "I'm not quite sure. Still don't know what all changed mentally. Physically, it's obvious."

If they weren't surrounded by men, Bucky would have risked making a comment or two. But they were, so he kept his mouth shut.

The walk back to base was awful. It was long and took the rest of the night. They stopped a time or two to apply basic medical treatment to some and to catch their breaths before they ventured off again.

Steve and Bucky didn't leave each other's sides the entire walk home. Nobody seemed to question it, given the fact that Bucky had experienced something no one really understood just yet and Steve was a stranger who thought his friend was dead. And he just risked his life to storm a Hydra base by himself.

"I wasn't by myself," Steve corrected Falsworth.

"Really? Then where is your backup?" The British man smirked.

"They flew me in. I was supposed to call whenever I needed a ride back." Steve kept marching, glancing back every now and then to make sure everything was still okay.

"Oh yeah? Then why didn't you?" Morita chimed in.

Steve dug in his pocket and pulled out the radio Peggy and Howard had given him, the once perfect piece of technology now in, well, pieces. "It caught my fall." The men behind him bubbled with laughter, Dum Dum's the loudest. Bucky smiled, warm and genuine despite the circumstance, and readjusted the gun in his hands.

It was only a matter of time before the edge of the base was seen in the distance.

The whole celebration the base had upon their return was surreal. Steve was just there less than twenty-four hours ago when they were shouting at him to 'shut the hell up' and 'bring back the girls' while he tried to do his act. And now, these same men were cheering him on and clapping him on the back for bringing their brothers-in-arms back to their makeshift base.

And then Bucky had to scream a big "Let's hear it for Captain America!"

And Peggy was there, with her flirty smile and her cute curls that Steve couldn't help but want to touch.

The crowd surrounding them was crazy, filled with men cheering and hollering for Steve- no, cheering for Captain America. Men, from people he had never spoken to to the higher up soldiers like Colonel Phillips, were coming up to him and thanking him for his 'daring deeds' and what not.

It was all so surreal. . .

Peggy finally dragged him and Bucky away towards the medical tent for Bucky to get checked out. "Steven's told me a lot about you," she told the sergeant as they waited for a nurse to stop by.

Bucky looked between the two, at Steve's shy smile and cool blue eyes (that always made him feel warm inside), and nodded. "I bet he has. How long have you two known each other. . ?"

"Agent Margaret Carter, but you can call me Peggy," the British woman held out her dainty hand and grinned.

Bucky nearly gagged at the heart eyes Steve was giving her. . . Those eyes were meant to look at him that way. "Nice to meet you, Agent Carter," the brunet mumbled. His head was still foggy and his chest was hurting worse than it was on the way here. Then again, that was before he realized Steve had moved on.

Steve had moved on. . .

' _See Barnes, this is what you get. You fucking idiot. Why the hell did you think it'd be a good idea to break things off completely? Because if I broke things off mercilessly, then I wouldn't have to suffer through this. . ._ ' The nurse walked over and began to check on Bucky, asking him to do a few basic stretches and such to diagnose him.

"How is he?" Steve asked, his thumb knuckle between his teeth.

"He'll survive. Bit of a concussion, but after a few weeks he should be ready to hit the road again." When the nurse cleared him, Steve took Bucky back to his tent and Agent Carter went to speak to the Colonel about Steve enlisting officially.

Steve cleared his throat. "You know, I've got room in my tent if you want to move in-"

"Steve, I like my tent. Dum Dum and Jones are there and it's not too bad. We have a good time. 'Sides, you won't be staying too long I'm sure. They'll want you to go do some special mission now that you've proven yourself worthy," Bucky said with a small grin. Steve blushed, his whole upper body turning a light shade of pink.

The blond shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Steve hadn't been this shy before the war. Not around Bucky, at least. "Well, I've got the tent to myself. It's really my, um, dressing room-"

"Dressing room? Why do you need a dressing room?" Bucky stopped and crossed his arms, his mischievous smirk barely meeting his eyes.

"I- Well, you see- It's just- I-," Steve stammered, "I'm not exactly a soldier."

"Then how are you a captain?"

"It's kind of a gimmick. . . I'm a, um, spokesperson." Steve rubbed at his neck, his head ducked down a little so all Bucky could see were those beautifully long eyelashes Bucky loved so much.

"A spokesperson? How so?"

"Well, when the doctor passed away after my transformation, this Nazi broke the last bottle. Phillips didn't want only one super-soldier so he sold me to a senator, pretty much, and I became Captain America."

"Hence the tights," Bucky stated, his words doused in amusement.

"Hence the tights." Steve started towards his tent again, a stupid grin on his face. "It's not too bad. I got my own tent, which is about the only perk. Other than the travel, that's pretty neat too."

Bucky matched his pace, going just a little slower than his friend. "Where all have you been?"  


"Pretty much every state," Steve shrugged, "London, Paris, a few small cities in England and France, a couple in Italy and Spain. Any Allies base, really."

Bucky didn't say anything, just watched as Steve pulled back the flap and let Bucky inside. The tent was small and barely big enough for Steve's new body. The cot looked too tiny and his clothes looked strange laying on the truck near the end of the cot. Especially his other suit, the one that matched the suit he was wearing now, just a brighter blue. "Bet you look good in this," Bucky whispered quietly as his fingers traced a star on the fabric. "Without all that dirt and grime on your face, that is."

"You think so?" There it was again, Steve being all awkward and dorky. It was different and Bucky wasn't exactly sure why. Was this his fault? Had he broken Steve? The brunet nodded and sat down on the cot, completely exhausted and ready to sleep. "Go ahead, Buck. Get some rest. I'll be here when you wake up."

Steve didn't have to tell him twice. Bucky curled up on his side, face smushed into the pillow that smelled dreamily of Steve. It was only a matter of minutes before Bucky was stuck in battle between sleep and consciousness. "Hey Stevie," he whispered.

"Yeah?" The blond said from the floor near the trunk. He was sketching or reading, a book tucked in his lap.

"You know I'm sorry right? I feel just awful 'bout how I ended things."

"'S okay, Buck," Steve whispered.

"No it ain't," Bucky sat up. "It's not fair. I should have given you some kind of warning and I should have tried to keep our friendship intact."

Steve sighed softly. "Bucky, we'll always be friends. You could murder someone out of cold blood and I'd still think of you as my best friend."

Bucky rolled his eyes and flipped around, his back facing Steve. "Still. I'm sorry. But," he began, "I don't regret it. I think it's best if we aren't. . ."

"I get it," Steve said, rushed and flustered. "I do. We don't have to rehash it. Just," he sighed, "just drop it. Get some rest. I'll be back later." With that, Steve left Bucky in his tent to go who knows where.

Bucky fell asleep with the words ' _You fucked up, Barnes. You fucked up,_ ' repeating in his head.

~*~*~*~*~

The Howling Commando's first mission was in France. They were traveling along a series of bumpy trails just off the main road for safety precaution. The plan was to travel half way there, just inside the French border, the first day, stay the night by a village, and head to their destination the next morning with plenty of time to scope out the target. The target being an abandoned Hydra base on the coast of France, but they weren't positive of the location.

"Ten bucks they have those freaky blue guns," Morita grumbled as they drove down a winding dirt road.

"No dice. With tech like that there's no way they wouldn't use 'em," Dum Dum called from the driver's seat. He'd taken the keys right out of Steve's hands as soon as Colonel Phillips turned around. ("If you're anything like Barnes, then there ain't no way I'm letting you take the wheel. Captain or not." "Why's that?" "Have you even ridden in a car?" "Of course!" "But have you ever driven one?" Steve faltered, "Well-" "My point exactly, city slicker.")

Steve was going over some paperwork Agent Carter had given him on the mission, all the data they'd gotten thus far. "Question is, what's the blue stuff?" Bucky asked, glancing over Steve's shoulder at the paperwork in his lap. No one said anything about how Bucky seemed to be draped over Steve's arm, his chin tucked just over Steve's shoulder.

The Captain closed the folder and tucked it away in a briefcase of classified files. "Stark was gonna take a look, see what it's made of."

"Well, I don't like it," Bucky crossed his arms.

"They were pretty badass," Falsworth added.

Gabe, who had been translating the conversation to Dernier, shook his head. "They weren't humane."

" _Avons-nous nos propres armes?Sont-elles assez puissantes pour s'en prendre à Hydra_ " The Frenchman asked.

"Jonesy, translation?" Dugan boomed.

"He asked if we have our own guns? And if they were powerful enough to take on Hydra?" Gabe explained.

"We do. Don't worry," the Captain started.

" _Nous faisons. Ne vous inquiétez pas_ ," Jones translated dutifully. Dernier nodded, a relieved smile on his scruffy face.

When the men stopped for a moment a few hours later, Steve pulled Gabe to the side. "Does Jacques only speak French?"

Gabe nodded and wiped his brow. "He wants me to teach him English, but as of right now he's limited to the basics. It's difficult for him to grasp, but we're working on it." Steve nodded, his head ducked down as he checked out of the conversation, already deep in thought. Gabe walked off to just past the tree line, leaving Steve to think by the truck.

Bucky appeared by his side, hands wrapped tightly around a rifle that he handled with an eerie ease. "I know that look. Quit thinking so hard before you shit yourself."

"Fuck off," Steve pushed him a little, still wary of his newfound strength and Bucky's recovery. (They weren't talking about it, among other things.)

The brunet gasped. "What would your mother think if she heard such foul language coming from her precious Stevie's lips? Hell, what would the boys say?"

"They'd probably say 'Watch your fucking language,' and don't bother correcting me 'cause you know I'm right," Steve mumbled as he slung an arm over Bucky's shoulders. Bucky chuckled weakly, carefully slipping out of Steve's embrace. The younger man tried desperately not to show how much that simple act killed him. . . It was moments like this when the shift in their different dynamic was too obvious.

"What was that all about anyways? Gabe say something philosophical or something? That why you're thinking so hard?" Bucky adjusted the strap of his rifle.

Steve shrugged, eyes fixated on the toe of his boots. "Just curious about Dernier s'all. Feel bad he can only talk to Gabe 'cause I didn't pay attention in French class."

"Steve," Bucky started, "you do realize it's not your fault? Quit playing martyr and let it go. It works for us. It's not your fault he doesn't speak English and you don't speak French. Nothing you can do about it." The brunet started to walk away, already weary of the puppy eyes Steve was sporting. Not that the blond was looking at him. Which was good, because Bucky didn't deserve for Steve to look at him in any way but disgust.

The blond shrugged again and turned to climb into the truck. "C'mon, we better get on the road before it gets too dark."

The Commandos traveled through the night until they reached a quaint little village just across the border. They set up camp and hunkered down for some much needed rest.

Steve was the first one up the next morning. He secured the perimeter of their little camp, checked all of their equipment, cleaned all of their boots, and rebuilt the fire for a small breakfast. He even planned their attack on the base! All before the others even began to stir.

He figured it was a part of the serum's side-effects, the restlessness and anxiety. As he sat by the fire, millions of questions poured through his head as his foot tapped impatiently against the dirt. ' _What'll Brandt do when he finds out? Can he sue me and send me to prison? Will they try and take away the serum? Could they? Was this a one time thing or did Colonel Phillips actually trust him enough to promote him to Captain and give him an actual place in his military. What will his fans think? Will the girls still perform or was their tour canceled now that Captain America was actually fighting for their country?_ '

So after five minutes of listening to the crackle of the fire, Steve wrote a quick 'be back soon' message and started to walk the trail into town. The walk helped clear his head, momentarily ridding him of the questions he couldn't exactly answer. He just kept going, not really paying attention to where he was going rather to what he was surrounded by. Autumn in France was really a magical thing. . .

When he reached the village, he kept going. He figured he could get some cigarettes and maybe some booze for the guys to celebrate with after - and if - they returned to their camp after raiding the Hydra base tomorrow. That is until he came across a cute little bookstore stuck between the farmer's market (that was bursting with vibrant, fresh colors and smells) and a small bakery (that was particularly inviting with it's toasty warmth and home like atmosphere). He stepped inside, his body hunched and compact as he maneuvered through the small aisles.

And then he spotted a book, the only one with an English headline. "It's just not fair," Steve mumbled as he snatched up the book and headed for the clerk. "Just not fair."

Once Steve returned to the camp, the others were up and ready to hit the road again. They raided the Hydra base that night. After collecting as much data as they possibly could and getting any prisoners out, the Commandos destroyed the building and left the scene.

Steve was the first to wake up the next morning. He cleaned up their makeshift camp, started breakfast, cleaned their uniforms and equipment, and secured the campsite before he hunkered down by the fire with his new book. And that's how it was for the next few weeks. He spent every free moment he had devoted to reading that book.

"What's he reading anyways?" Morita asked as Steve retreated to his tent with a small book in his hand.

"Who knows? He won't talk to me about it. Not that we talk all that much," Bucky grumbled. The Commandos were huddled around the fire, still unsure about their new captain.

"I thought you two were close?" Gabe asked.

"Yeah, we were. But the war got in the way and. . . Things are different now," Bucky sighed.

"The war changed a lot for all of us," Falsworth started, "we must learn to accept it."

"Hang on, when did we grow boobs? I didn't sign up for some dame-less gossip hour," Dum Dum boomed.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "You didn't even sign up."

Dugan shrugged. "Same difference."

It wasn't until they were packing up their things one morning that they found out.

" _Où allons-nous à partir d'ici?_ " Dernier asked as they packed the truck with supplies.

But before Gabe could translate, Steve spoke up. " _L'Allemagne. Puis nous nous dirigeons vers la Pologne pour une autre base._ "

Nobody spoke for a moment. They all paused, mouths open and eyes wide as they stared in astoundment at their captain. Jacques finally stammered out a meek, " _Où avez-vous appris cela?_ "

" _J'ai_ appris seul _._ " Steve shrugged and turned to the others. "I said we're heading to Germany, then to Poland for another base." The super-soldier hefted up another bag of supplies into the back of the truck with ease before he climbed in himself. He clapped his hands and raised an eyebrow at the men still watching him with shocked expressions.

"When did you learn French?" Bucky asked, his dark eyebrows furrowed.

Steve pulled out the worn French textbook he bought on their first mission and blushed. "I taught myself."

Bucky shook his head, a dopey grin trying to form on his otherwise neutral expression. "Only you, Rogers, would teach yourself another language so someone else didn't feel excluded."

The captain shrugged. "Just didn't think it was fair that he's stuck to talking to one person just because of an English barrier. It's not exactly fair to expect him to learn our language if we aren't putting in the effort to learn his. So, I taught myself French. Now load up, we have places to be."

With a start, the Commandos started to climb into the truck. Dugan and Bucky took the front seats while the rest piled into the back. " _Nous devons travailler sur votre prononciation_ ," Dernier said once he was settled into his seat across from Steve.

" _Je pense que c'est une excellente idée_ ," Steve replied carefully.

" _Merci_ ," Dernier started softly, " _cela signifie beaucoup pour moi._ "

" _Ne vous en faites pas._ " Steve reached forward to clap a hand on his shoulder. " _Je suis votre capitaine. Je devrais pouvoir vous parler directement._ "

" _Vous êtes un_ homme bon _,_ capitaine," Gabe quipped, "a real good man."

And if Bucky was grinning stupidly out the window, no one would know except Dum Dum. "What's with the stupid grin, Barnes? Thinkin' of your girl?"

"You could say that." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Avons-nous nos propres armes? Sont-elles assez puissantes pour s'en prendre à Hydra? - Do we have our own guns? Are they powerful enough to take on Hydra?
> 
> Où allons-nous à partir d'ici? - Where are we going from here?
> 
> L'Allemagne. Puis nous nous dirigeons vers la Pologne pour une autre base. - Germany. Then we head to Poland for another base.
> 
> Où avez-vous appris cela? - Where did you learn that?
> 
> J'ai appris seul. - I taught myself
> 
> Nous devons travailler sur votre prononciation. - We need to work on your pronunciation.
> 
> Je pense que c'est une excellente idée. - I think that's a great idea.
> 
> Merci, cela signifie beaucoup pour moi. - Thanks, it means a lot to me.
> 
> Ne vous en faites pas. - Don't worry about it.
> 
> Je suis votre capitaine. Je devrais pouvoir vous parler directement. - I'm your captain. I should be able to speak to you directly.
> 
> Vous êtes un homme bon, capitaine - You're a good man, captain


	18. 1944

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the wait! This chapter got away from me. . . But I finished it in time for Christmas!! 
> 
> I hope you all have an incredible holiday and enjoy the chapter. We're almost done with Our Beginning! The next chapter will be our last, then the epilogue, and then we have the next book, Our now! 
> 
> Like I said, this chapter is extremely longer than expected, but I hope it'll satisfy you guys enough. It's fluffy and I'm pretty happy with it. The translations for this chapter are at the end, but I tried to translate them in text, if that makes sense? 
> 
> This is unedited, like every chapter that gets posted. They're edited on tumblr, but the bulk isn't. After we get through this story, I'll go back and edit (I may go ahead and edit it today, though) before we start on Our Now. 
> 
> Anyways, enough rambling. Read on! ~ J & E x

_ Chapter Sixteen _

  
  


**1944**

“Woo!” Dum Dum boomed as they climbed out of the truck at their newest camp in Belgium. “I’m freezing my ass off, but at least we can mark that base off our list.”

Steve nodded, his shield on his left arm and the trunk of weapons they had taken from the base for examination on the other. “Jones, Dernier,  _ lance le feu _ . Morita, Falsworth, secure the campsite. Dum Dum, double check all of our equipment and take stock of our supplies, and Barnes,” he glanced to Bucky, who - frankly - looked awful, “you’re with me.” 

“Yes sir!” Dum Dum grinned with a mock salute. If he’d mocked anyone other than Steve in such a manner, he’d be shipped back to the States on a dishonorable discharge. But thankfully, this was Steve and Steve could care less. It’d been three months since the men joined Captain America’s Howling Commandos and an understanding had settled between the Captain and his men. Steve was relaxed enough not to care about formalities when it was just the Commandos on their own (around the Colonel and other soldiers, that was a different story). It was an understanding that the Commandos had come to appreciate, that they didn’t have to keep up appearances when they were stuck in the middle of nowhere. It eased some of the tension that came with being deployed. Besides, Steve didn’t care how they treated him, as long as they respected him and stuck to the plan during battles. 

The Commandos dispersed with a soft laugh rippling through the crowd, the men going about their tasks while Steve guided Bucky into his tent. “Steve, what am I doing in here?” Bucky asked once the flaps were shut and Steve had already started to get situated. 

He set down the weapons and checked the locks a few times before he grabbed his briefcase. It wasn’t really his, and the Colonel liked to remind him of that, but it made keeping files safe easier. “I need your opinion on my next plan for the base in France. Today worked really well, and I’m thinking-” Steve started, moving towards the table Colonel Phillips had given him

“Steve, do you really need me or is this just some excuse to spend time alone?” Bucky interrupted with his arms crossed and a dangerous glare on his face.

The captain faltered. “I- Well- Both, really?” He cleared his throat. “I like to have your opinion on things,” Steve explained, “but I don’t really get time with you without the others.”

Bucky reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Ever think there was a reason for that? That maybe I don’t want to spend time with you alone?” 

Steve paused, his watery blue eyes glued to the map he’d pulled out. “Yeah. I did. I just didn’t think you could do that. Not to me, at least,” he admitted.

“You’re not that special, Steve. Not everything’s about you,” Bucky spat. ‘ _ You’re a monster, Barnes. You should have been honest with him from the start. All you’re doing is causing unnecessary pain that neither of you need. He would have understood eventually if you just cut things off and explained that you didn’t want to hold him back anymore. _ ’ Bucky thought as he watched Steve’s body deflate, slowly curling in on himself. ‘ _ He’s got that damn kicked puppy look now. All because you put it there. _ ’

“I’m sorry, okay?” Steve whispered. “Look, I don’t. . . I don’t know what I did or what happened, but I’m sorry.” Bucky’s already broken heart shattered. ‘ _ Steve thinks it’s his fault. . . You’re going to hell - and not just because you’re queer _ .’ Bucky paused, turning his body away slightly as he processed his thoughts. ‘ _ Queer? Yeah sure, I like guys - obviously - but I’ve never thought of myself as queer. . . Guess that clears things up _ .

‘ _ You know, you would never have thought of yourself as queer if you hadn’t fallen for Steve. Then maybe you could dismiss the idea of being with a man and focus on women, like a normal person. But no, you fell for Steve and his stupid smile. Maybe it is his fault, maybe all this could have been spared if Steve hadn’t been so goddamn lovable. _ ’ An unexplainable anger bubbled in Bucky’s chest. He was angry at Steve, at himself, at the Commandos, at the war, at everything - for seemingly no reason. 

“You don’t know what you did?” Bucky laughed, his tone harsh and unamused. “Bull. You know damn well what you did. Don’t try and tell me you were innocent in all of this.”

Steve looked up with pained eyes and a set jaw. “Bucky, I really don’t know! I thought we were fine and I come home to- to- to you and all of this,” he motioned between the two, his voice cracking. “Something must have happened that you aren’t clueing me into, or I’m just that oblivious.” 

“Oh, so it’s my fault?” Bucky took a step forward. “Are you seriously putting this all on me?”

Steve stood, confused and angry. “That’s not what I’m saying and you know it. All I’m trying to say is that I don’t know what _ I  _ did.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You always were so helpless. You can figure it out on your own, you don’t need my help. With anything.” The shorter man glared up at him. “I thought I was clear, Captain. We’re done. I’ll put up with you as your right hand, but we’re nothing more.” Bucky started to walk away, his back turned to Steve.

“What’d they do to you?” Steve seethed. “What happened to the Bucky I know?”

Without turning around, Bucky spat, “Could ask the same about you.” He stormed out of the tent, his boots crunching in the snow.

Steve took a deep breath, ready to get to work or draw or read- anything to get his mind off Bucky. But Bucky wasn’t done. He stopped, spun around, and hollered, “You’re nothing but a pompous ass, Rogers. Fuck you.” 

And if Steve ripped apart a broken metal box, no one would know. 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Another successful mission had the Commandos stuck in the middle of a German forest, camped in a small clearing. They men had all settled around the fire, ready to eat whatever Morita had to fix up, as the sun set behind the trees. Gabe was translating a story on Dernier’s childhood that had them all in a fit of laughter. 

“You know,” Falsworth started as they calmed down after a lapse of silence, “we’ve all been working together for a few months and yet I don’t believe I’ve heard a single childhood story from the Captain or Sarge.”  

All eyes turned to Steve and Bucky, who sat shoulder to shoulder to the point Steve could feel the other man bristle at the attention. “Yeah, why is that?” Gabe asked, leaning forward just a hair. 

Steve cleared his throat, his face heating up just a little (he really hoped it was too dark to notice his blush). “I’m not real sure,” he said lamely. 

“Barnes said you two were real close when we met in training. Somethin’ happen since then? ‘Cause you two got some weird tension between you, have since we got back from that damn Hydra prison,” Dum Dum added.

The captain glanced at Bucky for help, but the brunet was staring at the fire with a vacant intensity. Steve’s eyebrows furrowed before he turned his attention back to the men. “I think,” he started, “I think it’s the war and all the pressure being put on us as a whole. It’s gettin’ to us. That’s no excuse, I know, but I don’t think we really realized it was happening. . .” Steve spoke softly, his voice steady and his expression genuine. “That and before he left we, uh, we got into a nasty fight. We never really fought, not like that at least, so it felt more intense than it probably was.” He glanced at Bucky, but the other man wouldn’t meet his gaze.

An awkward tension settled over the Commandos as everyone waited for Bucky to say something, anything. He stayed silent, as if he wasn’t even there. 

“At least you two still work well together,” Morita offered with a shrug. 

“I think we deserve to hear about when the great Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were kids,” Falsworth stated. 

Steve chuckled with a nod. He thought for a moment before a fond smile pulled at his lips. “There was this time Bucky and I went to the beach with a pair of sisters. Bucky was head over heels for the older sister while the younger - poor girl - got stuck with me. You gotta remember I was a twig and was always sick before the serum. Anyways, we get down to the beach and the girls pretty much ignored us the second we got down there. And my bright self got the stupid idea that going into the water would be the best idea all day. Bucky had to chase me out before I got myself sick, only so I could go into a damn asthma attack-” 

“I don’t remember this story,” Bucky interrupted. 

“Wait seriously?” Steve turned to him, worry etched onto his features. “That was the day you lost it and you can’t remember it?” 

Bucky glanced at him, his eyes widened just a little (only Steve could notice such a miniscule change, like how his bottom lip that he had tucked between his teeth was trembling ever so slightly). “No, I-I don’t.” 

“I remember when I first lost my virginity. I was in high school and this girl-” Dugan couldn’t finish his story before Bucky stormed off into the forest. Everyone watched as he rushed off, jaws dropped and eyes worried. “Steve, you’re probably the best shot at figuring out what’s wrong,” Dugan said softly. 

Steve nodded and excused himself before he ran after Bucky. “Buck?” He called. He struggled to hear the sound of leaves rustling or Bucky’s breathing, anything his super hearing could pick up on really. . . 

“Go away, Steve,” Bucky called from behind a tree. Steve rolled his eyes and trudged forward, trying his best to keep his body and actions calm. If Bucky was freaked out, then Steve didn’t need to go overboard with his worry. 

“No can do, Sarge,” he announced in his “Captain’s voice” as he peeked around the tree Bucky was hiding behind. “I’m not leaving until you clue me in on what’s got you all quiet and tense.” Steve settled against the tree across from Bucky, his face neutral despite his inner turmoil on what exactly is happening.

Bucky buried his face in his hands, a humorless laugh ripping through his throat. “I’m broken, Steve.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, I’m broken.” Bucky looked up, eyes red-rimmed and his nose pink. “I haven’t been okay. Not since that goddamn scientist got his hands on me,” he spat. 

“Bucky, tell me what’s wrong,” Steve pleaded. 

Bucky wiped at his eyes. “There’s a lot, Steve. I forget things. I can’t sleep without seeing blue. I can barely sleep through the night. I wake up mumbling my serial number because that’s all I know for a good five minutes. I’m pathetic and weak-”

“Don’t you dare call yourself that,” Steve spat. He grabbed Bucky’s hands and pulled him closer a little. “Don’t you ever treat yourself like that, James. You’re a goddamn hero, you know that? You’ve spent your whole damn life lookin’ out for me and your siblings. You’ve risked your life for me countless times and you volunteered to be taken into that experiment without even knowing what was happening, just to keep a few more people from dying. I don’t know what they did to you nor do I want to, but I do know that you are the bravest son of a bitch I’ve ever met. Don’t you ever try and say otherwise either, because I will fight you, and anyone else who disagrees with me, on the subject. And don’t think I won’t.” 

Blue eyes seared into watery grey. They didn’t say anything for a while, just stared at each other. 

And then, with a wet laugh, Bucky asked, “Did you just call my ma a bitch?” 

Steve’s eyes widened in horror. “Shit, I did not mean that.”

“She’d have your head if she ever found out. So would your own mother.” Bucky managed a small smile.

Steve bit his lip, an amused little breath of a chuckle slipping past his lips. “You bet she would. They’d team up on me, beat me senseless.” 

The sat in silence again, the air around them a little easier, a little lighter. “You know I’m here for you, yeah? I don’t care if you hate me or never want to talk to me again, but I’m here.” 

“Thanks, Steve.” Bucky stood and wiped off the dirt from his pants before he held out a hand. “I’m good now, let’s get back before they send out a search party for us.” 

And then they returned to camp as if nothing happened. But things were changing, slowly returning back to normal.

  
Slowly.

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Steve stared up at his tent’s ceiling. He absolutely hated being the only one with a single tent. Gabe and Dernier shared, Dugan and Bucky shared, and Falsworth and Morita shared. He was by himself, alone in this big tent with just his cot and a desk he barely used. 

He couldn’t sleep. 

For once, everything seemed insufferably quiet. He couldn’t hear a thing and that infuriated him. Any other night the forest around their newest camp would be full of life, but since they moved to a forest in Poland, there was nothing. 

His own thoughts seemed to scream at him. 

In two days, it’d be Bucky’s birthday. He wanted to do something, to show he still cared, that he was still here for him. He wanted Bucky to remember he was still special in Steve’s eyes. 

But he couldn’t decide if Bucky wanted him to or not. . .

Steve fought with his brain, his anxiety taking ahold of him with unbearable force.  _ ‘It’s his birthday. Forget whatever this bullshit between you is and do something for him, even if it’s taking the Commandos out for drinks _ ,’ he thought. ‘ _ But if he doesn’t want you to make a big deal of things, he couldn’t push you away. He could leave, get transferred to another unit and never see you again. _ ’ 

It took him hours to fall asleep. 

He settled into his cot, the thin blanket draped across his body. And once sleep finally washed over him, he wished it hadn’t.

_ The sounds of his footprints echoed off the bare walls, pounding in his head as they hit the concrete.  The hall seemed to go on forever and his chest was constricting as if he were on the edge of an asthma attack. _

_ But that’s not right. . . The serum had cured his asthma. He hadn’t had an attack in months.  _

_ Or was it anxiety? He’d had panic attacks many a times since he started this gig as Captain America. . . They always felt like an asthma attack at first until he started to hyperventilate.  _

  
_ Steve ran and ran, his arms pumping at his side. His shield seemed pointless, the poorly constructed prop too flimsy to really put to use. It proved it’s value, sure, but it hasn’t shielded him from the horrors that lied within the Hydra base.  _   


 

_ Bucky wasn’t with the others, they said they took him a week ago. No one had returned from wherever they took him. No one. _

_ Oh god, where was he? Steve had scoured the base, looking in every room he passed and down every hall. He had to be here. Steve just knew it. _

_ Bucky was here, somewhere, and Steve wasn’t leaving without him.  _

_ He surged forward, using his newfound determination to power his legs. He had to find him. He just had to.  _

_ But the hallway kept going on and on without a door in sight. Steve felt like he was running in place, stuck in one spot as he desperately tried to move on, to get to Bucky. _

_ After what felt like hours, a door appeared on the other end of the hall. Zola cackled in the distance, the sound settling in Steve’s head with an eerie finality. Steve wanted to be sick, his stomach churning as Zola’s presence crawled its way beneath his skin and bubbled in his gut.  _

_ Steve moved on, running at top speed until he barreled through the door.  _

_ Bucky laid on the table, muttering mindlessly to himself. “32557038. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. 32557038. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. 32557038. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.” His skin was sickly pale, his dark hair oily and tangled. He looked malnourished, like he was on death’s door.  _

_ Steve’s heart shattered. He reached out, but the table moved feet away.  _

_ Zola crept out of the shadows, a sinister smile on his face. Steve seethed, his fists clenched tight as he struggled against invisible bonds. The small Swiss man loomed over Bucky as Steve watched in horror.  _

_ He grabbed a scalpel and lifted it, ready to stab Bucky. _

_ Steve screamed in horror. Zola brought the tool down to Bucky’s head. _

_ Bucky stopped muttering.  _

_ His chest stopped rising and falling. _

_ His eyes stopped blinking. _

_ Bucky stopped. _

_ Steve screamed and screamed, his throat raw and his voice hoarse. He fought to move forward, but his feet were glued to the floor, his arms held back.  _

He sat up with a gasp. The blanket was on the dirt floor, kicked off by his restless legs. A layer of sweat coated his skin.  __

Steve didn’t go back to sleep. Instead, he sat in his cot with his knees pulled up to his chest as he stared at the bare canvas wall. He could care less if tears were pouring down his cheeks or if his throat was beyond sore. 

He just wanted to rid himself of the memory.

#  ~*~*~*~*~

“Rogers,” Gabe called from across the camp, “Phillips wants you back at base to discuss something.” Steve nodded, not bothering to open his eyes. It was a nice, warm, spring day in the middle of Italy and Steve, Dum Dum, and Dernier were taking the opportunity to nap in the Italian sun. 

He covered his eyes with his left arm (or as the boys liked to call it, the “shield arm”) and sighed. “I don’t want to deal with the politics. Every time I go down there that’s all it is. Can’t we have a damn day off?”

“Good news is we’re getting a week off in London one of these days,” Dum Dum’s voice boomed from where he laid beside him just a few feet away, the vibrations trembling through the air. 

Dernier made a noise of half-hearted confusion. Steve turned his head slightly and mumbled a translation. “ _ Je remercie le Seigneur! _ ” 

Steve chuckled and lowered his arm. “I suppose I should be going before it gets dark. I’ll be back in the morning with new orders, I’m sure.” He stood and started towards his tent. “Feel free to join me!” Steve slipped inside and changed quickly into his proper uniform, tucking his tie in as he walked back into the camp grounds. “Anybody?”

Nobody moved. Nobody said anything. 

“Okay then.” Steve started towards his motorbike. He was almost out of their little camp when the other bike (usually Morita’s choice of transportation) roared to life and sped after him. Steve glanced back to see Bucky pulling up beside him. His eyebrows shot up. “You. . .you want to come with me?”

Bucky shrugged. “Figured I’d get out of here. Take a break from the boys.” Steve nodded and tried his damnedest to suppress his giddy little smile. 

The two men traveled the small trek down to the base Colonel Phillips was stationed at. Bucky followed Steve, keeping a few feet between their bikes. It was easier to handle his guilt this way. 

For the past few months, despite the eagerness he’d feel at random times, Bucky had pulled away from Steve in an attempt to let Steve move on. In an attempt to heal his own broken heart (oh, had the guilt of his stupidity eaten away at his conscious. . .) and forget everything that happened. He couldn’t do that when Steve was giving him the cutest little smiles (all shy and dopey-eyed) or whenever he saw the tick in his jaw when he was determined and concentrating. 

But watching him leave was easy.

Bucky tricked himself into getting through things, by fooling himself into believing the stupidest things. 

If anyone else knew, they’d see right through his act. 

Eventually, they pulled up to the base and were immediately greeted by Colonel Phillips, Agent Carter, and Howard Stark. “Captain, nice of you to finally join us,” Phillips announced as Steve and Bucky shut off their bikes. “Sergeant Barnes,” he greeted.

The soldiers saluted the Colonel in greeting and the five were off, moving quickly across the base and into the Colonel Phillips’ tent. “How’s the suit and shield working for you?” Stark asked over Steve’s shoulder as they walked.

“Just fine-”

“The shield’s practically an extension to his arm, nowadays,” Bucky informed the engineer (and if his eyes and voice showed a little too much admiration, only Steve would notice). 

Steve blushed and fiddled with his uniform. “It is not.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Don’t lie to him, Steve. You carry the damn thing everywhere.” 

“Good,” Colonel Phillips grunted. “Captain, if you would follow me. Agent Carter, take Barnes and Stark to look over those new weapon designs Stark was boasting about earlier. Get a real sniper’s opinion.” 

Agent Carter nodded and patted Steve’s shoulder as the man passed, her hand lingering on his bicep a little. The two shared a dopey look, both of their cheeks warming with a pink tint and shy smiles hinting at the corner of their lips.

Bucky wanted to gag. 

But this is what he wanted, for Steve to find a girl he could fall in love with and have the family and life he deserves. Bucky took a deep breath as Agent Carter and Howard guided him away from his beloved and down into another tent where a number of experimental weapons lay on a table surrounded by stacks of papers. 

Howard went into a ramble of words that flew right over Bucky’s head for the most part. He watched as the man moved eccentrically from one weapon to another, talking a mile a minute with all the confidence in the world. It felt a lot like the flying car exhibit at the World Fair. 

Bucky cringed at the memory of that night. 

Howard continued to talk and Bucky did his best to follow what he was saying. “Any questions?” the man finally asked, his voice a little breathless. 

“How’s that flying car going?” Bucky couldn’t help but ask. It was the one thing he truly enjoyed from that day, seeing such interesting technology in the flesh. Like a futuristic novel coming alive right before his eyes. 

Agent Carter faltered for a moment, a pristine eyebrow cocked in confusion. Howard let out a bark of laughter. “I have the plans in my tent. I’ll show, wait here.” The man slipped out, leaving Bucky alone with Peggy. 

“Flying car?” she asked finally.

Bucky nodded. “Stark created this flying car and showed it off at the World Fair. I dragged Steve to see it the night before I got shipped out-”

“The day Steven enrolled?” It was Bucky’s turn to pause, embarrassed by the fact he didn’t put the pieces together sooner. . . He nodded and turned to face her, giving her the respect she deserved. “I do believe he mentioned something about the two of you spending the night at the World Fair. That’s where he met Dr. Erskine.” 

“He tell you a lot about us?” Bucky couldn’t stop himself, his brain’s responses slowing from the pure awkwardness of their encounter. (Granted, she didn’t seem to notice so it was probably all his fault.) 

Peggy nodded, her curls barely bouncing with the slight movement. “He did. To an extent. You always seemed to be a touchy subject until you were in danger. Then you were all he could talk about.” She paused with a genuinely concerned expression on her delicate face. “He was devastated when he realized what happened. And furious. Steven practically tore through the base trying to figure out a way to get to you. I’m glad you’re okay, if not for his sake than for your own. No one should be subjected to such treatment.” 

Bucky looked away, hands stuffed in his pockets. He let the conversation lapse for a second, listening to the sounds of the men outside the canvas tent. “You really care for him, don’t you?”

“I do,” Peggy said softly. 

Bucky did his best not to scoff (and to keep the tears from prickling his eyes). “Do me a favor?” Peggy hummed, a hand on Bucky’s elbow to get him to look her in the eye. He lifted his head, his jaw clenched with determination. “Don’t hurt him. He acts like he’s fearless and brave, but he’s sensitive. He takes things to heart and he gives his all in everything he does. I haven’t seen him happy in months,” he laughed (a little harsher than he intended), “except for when you’re around. He cares about you, he really does. Just,” Bucky turned away again, “don’t hurt him. Promise me that?”

“Of course,” Peggy whispered. She was beyond concerned, her lips pursed and her eyebrows furrowed. But she didn’t get a chance to say anything further when Howard returned, back to his nonsense talk. 

Bucky tried his best to sound enthused, but he just felt numb. 

It wasn’t until he was back at the Commandos’ base that he let himself feel anything. He cried himself to sleep that night, only to wake up an hour later with a startled gasp. 

  
His Stevie wasn’t his anymore and he’ll have to get over it. He did this to himself. He deserves everything he’s gotten thus far. . . 

Everything and more. 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

The mess hall was noisy and packed to the brim. Steve and the Commandos went through the motions, grabbing their rationed meal and plopping down at one end of a long table situated on the opposite side of the room. “I’m real glad we get to go out on our own,” Dugan grumbled as he plopped down onto the bench.

“Why’s that?” Falsworth smirked. He sat down to Dugan’s left, across from Morita who sat on Steve’s left. Gabe and Dernier were on Steve’s right and Bucky was on Dugan’s left, all of them turned into their own little conversation among the jumble of voices. 

“This shit’s too much work,” Dugan dramatically motioned to the room with a loud ‘huff.’ “I’m exhausted ‘n all I did was grab a meal.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s not too bad. I actually like seeing new faces. ‘S better than staring at your ugly mug all day.” Steve grinned wickedly as the men howled with laughter. It wasn’t the best comeback, but it was out of character for Steve to say something like that in public. Now in the middle of a German forest or in the back of a truck on the way to some Hydra base, that was a different story.

“What you fellas laughin’ at?” a young southern boy asked from beside Falsworth. 

“The Captain thinks he’s clever,” the British man replied with a teasing wink to Steve. The super soldier blushed, his confident demeanor now replaced by his anxious, shy, humble alter-ego. 

The young man looked to the captain with a sneer. “Cap’n? Aren’t you that actor they got paradin’ ‘round the country? Cap’n America or some shit?”

Steve’s face grew hotter. He gave a meek nod, chin tucked in just a little. “That would be me. I quit doing shows, but,” he patted the shield that sat by his side like an obedient dog beside his master, “I couldn’t quite part with the persona.” 

“It suits him,” Bucky added with a challenging glare. He didn’t like how this kid regarded Steve. Steve, an incredible man and superb captain who deserved the utmost respect, if not more. 

“Really now?” The young man crossed his arms. Around him other soldiers eavesdropped with round, greedy eyes and murmurs of speculation. It wasn’t necessarily rare to see someone talk back to someone of a higher rank, but the way he flat out disrespected Steve and the older man wasn’t doing anything about it was interesting all in itself.

“Really.”

Steve, poor oblivious Steve, didn’t see the tension growing around the Commandos. “Speaking of Captain America, Agent Carter wants to talk to us. Apparently Senator Brandt has a job for us-”

“Us or you?” Morita raised an eyebrow.

“Us,” Steve clarified. 

The young soldier scoffed, “You a real soldier now? You get special missions while the rest of us are on the battlefront? Seriously?” He stood and glared. “That just ain’t fair.”

“How, exactly, ain’t that fair?” Bucky’s Brooklyn drawl seeped over his words as he, too, stood up.

The look on his face clued Steve in. He froze, his mind working in overdrive to find the best strategy tactic to stop Bucky from destroying this kid. (And he would, too. The pure rage that rested on his features matched the expression he wore whenever he boxed or fought some bully for Steve.)

“He’s an actor! And an experiment- Oh yeah, we know all about them experiments the Germans were workin’ on. He ain’t nothing but a fake son of a bit-” 

Bucky threw a punch before Steve could stop him. The brunet had pounced just as Steve was jumping up to stop him. The blond jumped over the table (barely missing Dugan’s head) and snatched Bucky off the young soldier. 

  
Bucky was seething as Steve held him back, fists still clenched tight. A couple of other men gathered up the young man, who’s bloody nose and split lip were bleeding all over his basic shirt. 

 

The mess hall was eerily silent as Steve put himself in between Bucky and the kid.

 

“Captain Rogers, move,” Bucky snapped.

 

“No. He isn’t worth it, Buck. He’s just a kid, probably Eugene’s age. It’s not worth it,” Steve said softly.

 

Bucky’s jaw clenched, but his eyes were softer (just enough for Steve to see). 

 

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. It’d been too long since Bucky looked at him like that (the fondness, not like anger. That was around far too often.) and he couldn't help but swoon. Bucky was looking at him with the same eyes he used to lecture him on fighting the world with. (“Stevie, you can’t go ‘round fightin’ everythin’ that moves!”)

 

And he understood what Bucky was trying to say. 

 

In Bucky’s eyes, he was worth it. He still meant something to Bucky, enough he’d risk his job to defend him. 

 

A swell of hope filled his chest, his heart pounding a mile a minute. 

 

“The hell is going on here?” the familiar bark of Colonel Phillips snapped Steve out of his stupor. “ _ Please tell me I wasn’t googly-eyed at him for too long _ ,” he couldn’t help but think.

 

The mess hall snapped to attention, everyone ready to salute. 

 

“Captain?” Phillips rested his hands on his hips. “Explain.”

 

“A difference of opinions, s’all. I think we’ve settled it.” He glanced to Bucky cautiously, who only gave a grumpy side-eye. 

 

The Colonel harrumphed and crossed his arms. “Captain, take your men and head back to the barracks. You six,” he glared at the young soldier and his buddies, “in my office. Captain, I’ll talk to you later.” He spun on his heel and left the mess hall, the six younger men following solemnly. 

 

Steve turned to Bucky with a barely concealed smile. “You heard the Colonel,” he mumbled. Bucky grumbled as he followed Steve out the mess hall. 

 

“Hey Steve,” Bucky whispered as the Commandos sauntered after the Captain. “We need to talk.” 

 

The blond faltered, but nodded nonetheless. “If you men will excuse us,” Steve told the Commandos before he started off towards a more secluded part of the base. Bucky followed after him, just a step or two behind with his head down and his hands in his pockets. Steve settled against the back of an ammunition building, his own hands fiddling with his shield. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder in silence until Steve finally cleared his throat, “Is, uh, something wrong?” 

 

Bucky shook his head. “No, I- I just feel like we need to catch up. It’s. . . It’s been too long since we just. . . talked.” 

 

Steve nodded. “I didn’t want to overstep my boundaries,” he admitted. “You seemed pretty pissed. . .”

 

“I know. I’m sorry,” Bucky mumbled.

 

“What, uh, what exactly happened on your end?” Steve glanced at him, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips in the cutest little pout Bucky had ever seen. When the brunet paused, Steve quickly shook his head. “You know what, don’t answer that. You don’t have to tell me.” 

 

Bucky didn’t say anything for a long time. He stared off past the base’s border, at the thick line of woods that seemed unusually dark at this time of day. Steve sighed, his shoulders falling openly. ‘ _ He’s giving you the chance to talk. He’s trying to smooth things over and here you are fucking things up! Good one, Steve. Real nice. You might have just lost him for good. _ ’ 

 

“Steve, do you love her?” Bucky suddenly asked. 

 

Steve looked like a deer in headlights when he lifted his head. “Agent Carter?” He blurted, face bright red and his eyes blinking hard.

 

“Yeah, do you love her?” Bucky kept his face scarily neutral, his tone even and calm. Steve didn’t know how he felt about how Bucky was asking this, how easy he was going about it. It almost seemed like he didn’t care. . . Did he?

 

“No,” Steve said softly. He looked down to his boots, focusing on the scuff mark on his right toe. 

 

Bucky nodded. “Could you see yourself loving her?”

 

Steve couldn’t figure out how to answer. If he was honest, he could lose Bucky. If he wasn’t, he could still lose Bucky. Because the truth is, he’s still in love with Bucky. But Bucky doesn’t seem to reciprocate his feelings anymore, which means he could push him away by admitted such a heavy proclamation. 

 

Then again, it wasn’t necessarily a lie. If Bucky really didn’t want to be with him, Steve could see a future with Peggy. She was an incredible woman; strong, independent, brilliant, kind-hearted. . . Steve really could see himself marrying her, starting a family, buying a home, but it was just off. When he imagined his life with Peggy, he didn’t get those butterflies in his stomach and his heart didn’t hammer in his chest like it did when he thought about being with Bucky until they grew old. 

 

The finality of the question was baring down on Steve’s shoulders. The longer he waited to answer, the harder it would be to answer. Bucky knows him better than anyone on this earth, it’s already hard to lie to him. 

 

Steve’s brain felt like mush. . . 

 

Eventually he mumbled, “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” He shook his head and moved so his right shoulder was against the building and his body was facing Bucky. His body was rigid, stiff as he tried desperately to seem at ease. “I can see myself marrying her. I can see her having my kids and living in a little house in Brooklyn. But. . .”

 

“You’re not over me,” Bucky sighed. Steve’s head fell as he nodded, eyes squeezed shut and his face bright red. Bucky ran a hand through his hair and faced Steve. “Steve,” Bucky lifted his chin up. 

 

Steve was almost startled by how close Bucky was to him, their noses only an inch away. He could feel his breath mixing with his, could see how the war had dulled his eyes far too much for his liking. 

 

And he suddenly couldn’t breathe. 

 

“It’s okay,” Bucky whispered, his voice soft in their own little world. Steve straightened up and Bucky followed suit. “I. . . I have to confess something.” 

 

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Steve’s worry was evident on his face and Bucky’s heart melted. 

 

“I’m fine,” he replied with a breathy retort. “I- Steve, I was an idiot.”

 

Steve cocked an eyebrow. “Bucky, you’re not an idiot-”

 

Bucky held up a hand and shook his head. “Shut up for a second, Stevie. Lemme talk. I need to say this without you stopping me.” Steve reluctantly nodded and pressed his lips together. “I was an idiot when I left. I. . . Steve, you did nothing wrong. Nothing. I was the reason we broke up. I figured,” his voice grew tighter, “that if I left the country and we weren’t together, it’d be easier for you to move on and find a nice gal to marry. Hell, I thought you were staying in Brooklyn, not going off to become Captain America. Figured with all the lonely dames back home, you’d find someone who was good enough for you. Or at least someone desperate and lonely enough to look at you.” Steve laughed softly at that, now looking up from beneath his eyelashes at Bucky. “I thought it’d be easier for us both. And then, when you showed up at that Hydra base in Azzano-” he had to stop for a moment. Steve cautiously took his hand, squeezing it gently. Bucky gave him a small, tight smile.

 

“When you showed up, I honestly didn’t think you were real. They fucked with my head, Stevie. They really fucked it up.” He was openly crying now, his voice cracking and his bottom lip trembling whenever he paused. “I can’t sleep. I wake up some days and all I can remember is my goddamn name and serial number. I have to sit there for a moment before I get out of bed and try and remember who I am, what we’re doing, where I am. . .”

 

“Buck-”   
  


Bucky pressed a hand to Steve’s mouth with a playful, half-hearted glare. “I said no interrupting.” He let his hand drop and Steve gave another reluctant nod. Bucky nodded and cleared his throat. “I barely remembered you. I couldn’t think of your name, could barely see your face in my head. But I knew you. I knew you were someone good, someone I could trust, someone who wouldn’t hurt me. . . I think, part of me fought so hard through that week because I knew you were out there. I knew you were waiting for me, that you would have wanted me to fight as hard as I could to get out. I knew subconsciously that you needed me to be strong and brave.

 

“By the time I was really over it and everything had come back to me, I was too stubborn and proud to say I was wrong. It doesn’t help that Peggy was giving you bedroom eyes whenever she saw you. Part of me was bitter that my plan actually worked, but then another half was hopeful that you were still hung up on me. I’m awful, I know.” Bucky shook his head and wiped at his tears with the back of his hand. 

 

Bucky took a deep breath. “I’m a dick. You got no idea how bad it hurt me when I said all those mean things to you. Like I said, I was too proud to apologize and get over it. I figured you didn’t need me now that you were this big, handsome soldier. You didn’t need me to be the person to believe in you, not when everyone else was falling at your feet with praise and worship. You didn’t need me to have your back, not when you single handedly infiltrated a Hydra base and rescued us. You didn’t need me to love, not when every dame we pass has eyes on you. So I kept pushing you away, because I was too goddamn weak to admit that I was wrong and I. . .”

 

The sob that ripped through Bucky’s throat broke Steve’s heart. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him, to comfort him as he poured out his soul for Steve to see. . . But he knew he couldn’t. Bucky needed to get through this on his own, without Steve’s comfort and coaxing. It would feel like pity if Steve comforted him now, even when they both knew it wasn’t. (They’d been in this situation before, when Steve was upset because couldn’t even piss by himself he was so sick. Whenever Bucky tried to talk him out of his head or comfort him, Steve would only snap at him. He didn’t need Bucky’s pity when he was feeling vulnerable and just low. . .) 

 

Steve’s own eyes were watering, his bottom lip starting to tremble just slightly. Bucky shook his head and looked up at him with everything he had. Love. Pain. Desperation. Loneliness. Exhaustion. Everything. “Stevie, I need you,” he cried softly. “I fucking need you. I can’t- I can’t do this,” he motioned to the space around them, “without you. I can’t deal with this,” he pointed to his head, “without you. I can’t live without out, Steve. And I don’t give a fuck if I’m too desperate or weak for admitting that I can’t, don’t, and won’t live without you in my life.

 

“Fuck,” Bucky shook his head, “I don’t care if you don’t want me back after finding out how cruel I was to you. I don’t care if you hate me. I just need you back in my life and I’m not taking no for an answer.” Steve was silently crying with him, his body subconsciously moving closer to him. “I need you,” Bucky finished pathetically. 

 

And then they were kissing.

 

Their lips met hesitantly, their noses bumping just slightly. They were out of practice, the easiness that used to come with kissing one another. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t passionate. It was simple and sweet and far too short. And Steve was finding it hard to breath with how fast his heart was beating, he just knew Bucky could hear it. Hesitantly, Steve let his hands fall to hover over Bucky’s waist before carefully letting his hands caress Bucky’s hips. Bucky sighed into the kiss, pressing just a little closer with a silent need. Steve took what he could get, his knees weakening just a little. (Typical Bucky, making a super soldier like Steve weak in the knees with a simple kiss.) 

 

Bucky placed a hand on Steve’s chest and pulled away gently. With their foreheads pressed together and their eyes still shut (Steve didn’t dare open them, in case this happened to be a dream), the two stood there in complete bliss. “I love you,” Bucky mouthed against Steve’s lips and Steve could have died right then and there. 

 

A choked sob escaped Steve’s throat without his consent. “Goddammit,” he cursed as he cupped Bucky’s face in his hands and surged forward for another kiss, this one full of desperation and need. “I love you, too, you fucking jerk,” he whispered between kisses. 

 

Eventually, once they’d calmed down from their passionate make-out session (they both agreed it was best not to try and do anything out in the open. Yeah, they were hidden from everyone, but that didn’t mean they were in a private place. It was too risky.) and had settled down against the wall of the building, Bucky got the courage to ask, “Are you mad?”

 

“Well,” Steve started, “given the fact I just spent ten minutes kissing you stupid, I would go with no.” Bucky rolled his eyes and gave a half-hearted punch to Steve’s shoulder. Steve beamed. “I get your thought process. I do. Although, I’m a little pissed you fucked with my head like that, making me think I screwed up our relationship.” Bucky looked away and Steve took his hand again. “But I get it.”

 

Bucky scooted closer and rested his head on Steve’s shoulder. “You know, I don’t deserve you.”

 

Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky’s head. “I could say the same.” He rested his head against Bucky’s. They watched the trees for a while, listening to the men chanting and the boisterous laughter that echoed against the buildings from the barracks. It was nice, just existing with each other again. “Can I confess something?”

 

“Course,” Bucky mumbled.

 

There was a pause. Steve took a deep breath and squeezed Bucky’s hand again before he spoke softly, “You’re not the only one with issues, Buck. We’ve all got them. Did you know Dernier can’t go through France without wondering if his wife and kids are safe? He told me that seeing villages ruined and destroyed causes him unbearable pain to the point Gabe or I have to talk him down from wherever he went. And Morita? He panics whenever we get mail and there’s nothing for him. His family’s stuck in a camp back home and it ain’t good. He’s got an insider sending him updates from his parents, but they don’t come as regularly as he’d hope. It doesn’t help that we keep moving around.” Steve paused again. He pressed another kiss to Bucky’s forehead, lingering for just a moment. “And. . . And I have nightmares. Awful, sickening nightmares about seeing you on that goddamn table. I don’t know what they did to you or what you went through, not like the other Commandos do. But I do know that I will always be here for you. Always. There isn’t a thing that could keep me from being with you, romantically or platonically, except you. Please, baby, don’t forget that. Don’t you ever forget that.” 

 

Bucky was crying again as he nodded. He twisted his body to look up at Steve, the blond’s eyes watering again. Bucky leaned forward enough to kiss him softly, his tears slipping between their lips. “We’re a mess,” he breathed when he pulled away. 

 

“S’why we work so well,” Steve offered. 

 

“I love you so much, you sappy punk.”

 

“Love you too, ya big jerk.” 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

“Why do we have so much stuff?” Dum Dum said, out of breath and only a little whiney. 

 

Steve rolled his eyes and hefted the ammunition case in the back of the truck. “Please, it’s not that bad.”

 

“Not all of us have super strength,” Morita deadpanned. 

 

Bucky hefted another case, just as big as Steve’s with just as little effort. “You guys are just weak. It’s really not that bad.” 

 

Steve smiled as he grabbed another case from Gabe. “Really, you guys just need more workouts. Maybe I should up the training time.” 

 

“Steve, you’re great and all, but I will kill you in your sleep if you even think about upping our training.” Morita jabbed a finger at him, a sharp, playful glare planted on his features. 

 

A bark of laughter fell from Bucky’s lips and Steve’s body grew warm all over. He hadn’t seen Bucky so happy for too long, to hear such a sweet, delicate sound in such an awful time. It was a beautiful, precious blessing. “He’s Captain America. He’s practically invincible.” 

Steve shrugged, his cheeks tinted pink in the summer sun. “Can’t argue with that.” 

 

“But,” Bucky started, an eyebrow cocked and his lips pursed. “That doesn’t mean he should be jumping over explosives and charging the enemy by himself.” 

 

“You tell ‘em, Barnes!” Dugan boomed. 

 

Steve scoffed. “I don’t do that,” he tried. The Commandos shared a look, unconvinced in the slightest. Steve huffed. “It’s not like I plan to do that kind of stuff. It. . . It just kinda happens.” 

 

“And I’m French.” Falsworth crossed his arms with an amused expression.

 

“You just like to show off your new talents.” Bucky clapped a hand on Steve’s broad shoulder (it took everything in him not to drool at how incredible Steve looked now, how built his new body was. Even if he did miss his little Stevie). The Captain shrugged, hard not to make a point, but not enough to push off Bucky’s hand. Contact with the brunet was to be cherished and Steve had gone too long without it to waste it anymore.

 

Steve rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Well, we could always cut down on our supplies. It’ll be the personal stuff that goes first, though. Your choice.” 

 

The Commandos exchanged a look before the five of them huddled a few feet away from Steve and Bucky. “Are they really discussing this?” Steve whispered.

 

Bucky chuckled. “Probably. Think we’ll be able to sneak off tonight?” 

 

A grin split Steve’s face, brightening his expression and body almost immediately. “I sure do hope so,” Steve whispered, barely audible. 

 

“We’ll have to see then, won’t we?” Bucky leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss to the back of Steve’s neck. Steve blushed and ran a hand through his hair. “I ever tell you how sexy you look in that uniform?” 

 

“Only twice a day, but I can say the same about you and the navy coat. Brings out your eyes.” Bucky punched his shoulder with a roll of his eyes. Steve chuckled, opening his mouth to say something when the Commandos came back to the conversation.

 

Falsworth cleared his throat. “We’re willing to cut down our supplies.” 

 

Steve and Bucky burst into laughter. “Alright. We’ll ditch a tent,” Steve finally said. 

 

“A tent? Can’t we ditch something else?” Bucky asked, his eyebrows furrowed. 

 

“We get rid of anything else, it’ll be harder to stay out there with little supplies.” Steve crossed his arms, an eyebrow raised expectantly. 

 

The Commandos shared another look. “We’re willing to go without the tent.” 

 

“Fine. We’ll get rid of one of the smaller tents. Dugan, Morita, and Falsworth can take my tent. I’ll room with Bucky and Gabe and Dernier keep their tent.” Steve glanced to his soldiers, waiting for any sign of reluctance. “Good?”

 

“Fine with me. Let’s get a move on,” Dugan announced. 

 

When the team got to their designated rest point, they set up camp with their three tents. “You know,” Steve started as they settled into their bunks for the night, “this makes sneaking out a lot easier.” 

 

Bucky simply grinned. “Who said we have to sneak around?” He carefully peeled off his shirt and sweats and sauntered over to Steve’s bunk. 

 

Steve beamed, held back the covers, and scooted over to the side. “Squeeze in, soldier.” Bucky giggled and slid in beside him, his legs automatically slipping between Steve’s. “Best decision I ever made.”

 

“I have to commend you for making them think they thought of this. Pretty clever for some kid from Brooklyn.” 

 

“Fuck you,” Steve chuckled.

 

“Gladly.” 

~*~*~*~*~

 

"So this is where you guys grew up?" Gabe piped up from the back seat, looking out the window at the Brooklyn neighborhood. 

 

"Yup," Bucky started, "just a couple blocks over. My folks still live in the building." 

 

"You grew up in the same building, right?" Falsworth asked, leaning over Morita (who was squished between Falsworth and Dernier in the back seat of the army-leased car) to poke his head between Dugan and Bucky’s. 

 

“We did. Even lived together at some point when the Depression hit.” Steve glanced back at the four soldiers in the back seat with a small smile. 

 

The Howling Commandos were in New York so Captain Rogers could complete his Captain America duties. According to Steve’s Captain America contract, he still had to do promotions, signings, movies, comics, and any other thing Brandt can think of for him to do in the name of Captain America in between missions. That being said, they were given two weeks in New York and plenty of free time.

 

And in turn, they had plenty of time to visit the Barnes’ family.

 

“Turn left here,” Bucky told Dum Dum as the man drove the car down the crowded streets.

 

“I’m sure you lads have plenty of stories along these streets,” Falsworth added. 

 

Bucky and Steve shared a mischievous smirk, before Bucky said, “You wouldn’t believe. Most of which, Steve ends up getting his ass kicked and I,” Bucky winked at him, “being the gracious knight in shining armor I was, had to swoop in to save him.” 

 

“My hero,” Steve deadpanned, but the corners of his mouth twitched with a smile (one secretly for Bucky, because Steve’s words weren’t completely a lie). 

 

“ _ Qui sommes-nous? Les Barnes ou Rogers? _ ” Dernier quipped.

 

“ _ Les Barnes. Ma mère a passé huit ans. Je suis le seul Roger qui est parti. Les Barnes sont une famille merveilleuse; Ils m'ont tout simplement emmené _ ,” Steve explained eloquently.

 

Morita groaned. “I really need to learn French,” he grumbled in his hands.

 

“Dernier asked about Steve’s family-” Gabe started.

 

“-and I was explaining how my mother died. And how great the Barnes are,” Steve finished.

 

Bucky nudged Steve’s shoulder (although from his seat stuffed between Steve and Dum Dum in the front, their shoulders were already touching) and grinned. “You tell him how your Ma was a saint? She’s the reason we live where we live, the reason my dad has a job, and. . . Don’t think there was a better Irish Catholic woman than Mrs. Sarah Rogers.” 

 

Steve nodded, a small, tight smile on his face. “Dugan, park here.” 

 

Once the car was stopped, Steve and Bucky practically burst out the door. They stood on the sidewalk, looking up at their childhood home with big, homesick eyes and goofy grins. Bucky turned around to see what the other Commandos were doing, a little surprised to see the five still in the car. He leaned in through the open passenger window and said, “You fellas are more than welcome to come inside. Ma won’t mind a few more mouths to feed. I promise.” 

 

Dugan turned off the car and the Commandos peeled themselves out of the cramped vehicle. “We can leave our things. No sense in taking them upstairs if we’re just gonna bring them back down,” Steve told them, his Brooklyn draw a little thicker already. 

 

Bucky was already running up the stairs, that grin still plastered on his face as he disappeared into the building. Steve rolled his eyes, but followed after him, his expression only a bit softer. “Damn, he sure is happy. You ever seen him like that?” Dugan asked quietly as the Commandos hesitantly made their way up the steps to the apartment building. 

 

“Sarge or the Captain?” Morita asked.

 

“Does it matter?” Gabe said. “They’re happy to see their family. Let them be. We’d be the same way if it was our families.” 

 

“Amen,” Dugan stated as he led the way up the flights of stairs. 

 

Bucky and Steve were practically vibrating in their spot by the stairs as they waited for their brothers-in-arms to catch up. “Ma’s gonna hate me,” the brunet whispered as he bounced on the balls of his feet. 

 

“No she’s won’t. She’ll be consumed by happiness to see your ugly mug to even think about hating you,” Steve reassured. “Besides, it’s only been two years. That’s not too bad compared to some other soldiers. At least she gets to see you again, right?” Steve pushed Bucky’s shoulder gently.

 

He nodded. “That’s very true. Morbid, but true.” Bucky glanced over his shoulder to see the other Commandos coming up the stairs. He moved with the grace of a sniper, completely silent, and opened the door.

 

The Barnes apartment was overflowing with noise. It spilled out of the kitchen, into the living room, and flooded the hallway. Bucky’s grin only grew as the distinct voices of Becky and Eugene arguing reached his ears, coupled with the ruffling of papers, a toddler’s cries, and the bustle of someone cooking something in the kitchen. 

 

It was the most precious sound Bucky had ever heard.

 

Bucky took a second to compose himself, Steve’s steady hand planted on his shoulder as the Commandos filed into the living room behind them. Gabe shut the door silently behind him, already peeling off his beret. The other Commandos followed suit, tucking the berets into their pockets (except for Dugan, who wore his bowler hat with pride). Bucky glanced back at Steve, who gave him a reassuring, jittery smile and mouthed a simple “go on” in that way that made Bucky’s heart swell with how thoughtful his boyfriend/best friend was.

 

The eldest Barnes child walked into the living room undetected and leaned against the kitchen doorway. Winifred stood at the stove, stirring something in a big pot that smelled heavenly and made Bucky’s mouth water; George was seated at the head of the table, facing Bucky, with the paper in his hands; Rebecca had her back to him, trying to feed a three-year-old Rose (she was so big, already grown so much. . . It made Bucky’s heart hurt) while she argued with Eugene; Daisy was doing some sort of homework assignment, her tongue poked out and her body bent over the table in deep concentration; and Eugene sat at the opposing head of the table, smoking a cigarette as he countered Becky’s argument on something a new neighbor of her’s said. 

 

Bucky was home, at last. 

 

He took a quiet step forward and pulled back a hand, sparing a second to wink at Steve (who had sidled up beside him in the doorway). When Steve bit his lip in a barely contained smile Bucky let his hand come down, right against the back of Eugene’s head. “Who do you think you are? Smoking at Ma’s kitchen table? Show some respect,” he scolded as he snatched the cigarette from Eugene. He put it out in the ashtray and grinned as his family whipped their heads in his direction. 

 

“And at the table no less?” Steve chided, sauntering into the kitchen. He shook his head and tsked. “I’m surprised your Ma hasn’t beaten some sense into you yet.” 

 

Bucky chuckled, amused at the frozen faces staring at him with shock (except Rose, she simply mumbled to herself). “Remember that time she found out I smoked?”

 

Steve laughed, head back and a hand on his stomach. “She beat you so hard in front of everyone in the school yard.” 

 

Dum Dum laughed from behind Steve. “Now that’s a story I want to hear.” 

 

“Second,” Morita added.

 

“It wasn’t that funny,” Bucky deadpanned.

 

It was at that moment that Winifred came to her senses. She let out a wet cry, something between a laugh and a sob, and dropped the spoon she was cooking with. “My baby!” She cried, arms opened wide as she stumbled in Bucky’s direction. Bucky grinned, falling into his mother’s arms with ease. 

 

It was chaos as the rest of the Barnes family snapped out of it. 

 

Winifred was a mess, sobbing all over the soldiers’ uniforms (Bucky’s, Steve’s, and even a couple of the Commandos’ uniforms when she engulfed them in her welcoming, motherly arms). George even teared u a little as he squeezed his son and Steve into respective bear hugs. Daisy had propelled herself at Steve as soon as he was free, latching onto his waist like a child despite her age of fourteen. 

 

Introductions were made, more tears were shed, and Bucky could barely step away from his mother’s side without her bursting into a fresh round of tears. But none of that mattered because he was home. At least for the next few days. 

 

Eventually, the Commandos left the Barnes’ home and made their way to the hotel. But on the way, Steve got an idea. “Hey, Buck? Why don’t we go home?”

 

“What do you mean?” They were only a block away from the Barnes’ house and a few from their own home. “Is it still ours?”

 

Steve nodded. “I didn’t sell it. All our stuff is there. Everything is in order. The guys can take our room, give them more space.”

 

“You guys live close by?” Dugan asked. 

 

“Just a few blocks down in the other direction.” Bucky glanced at Steve, eyebrows furrowed and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. “Can we do that?”

 

Steve shrugged. “They can’t keep us from our home, Buck. ‘Sides, they don’t have to know.”

 

Morita gasped, “The Captain’s going to pull one over on the government? Say it ain’t so!” 

 

The Captain rolled his eyes and flipped the Japanese man off. “Anyways, I say we go. It’ll be nice to stay at our place again.”

 

“Yeah. But Steve, all of our stuff is made for mini-Steve. Not Cap-size Steve,” Bucky said softly. “But you’re right, it would be nice. Dugan, pull over. We can walk from here.” 

 

The soldiers said goodnight, with promises to meet at a diner outside Senator Brandt’s office the next morning. Dugan drove off, weaving in and out of cars as he made his way out of Brooklyn. 

 

Steve and Bucky started off towards their building, hands stuffed in their pockets and small smiles on their faces. “Think we can fit in our bed now that I’m Cap-size?” Steve asked softly.

 

“I think,” Bucky started, “if we can squeeze into a military-grade bunk together, we can fit in our bed. We had plenty of room back then, we just may have to be a bit closer now.” He bumped Steve’s shoulder. “I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty okay with that idea.”

 

“I’m okay with that, too.” Steve bumped Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m also very willing to let you take me out dancing. Show me how the great Bucky Barnes woos his dates.”

 

Bucky burst into laughter. “Really? You’re willing to  _ let _ me take you?” 

 

Steve nodded, a smug smirk on his face. “I am.”

 

“Damn, what happened to golden boy Rogers? Why am I the only one with the pleasure of seeing your true colors? You’re an ass, you know that?” Bucky patted Steve on the back, his hand lingering on Steve’s shoulder.

 

“But you love me,” Steve whispered, leaning over enough for his lips to brush against Bucky’s ear. Bucky blushed and nodded, a small sound of agreement vibrating in his chest. “C’mon,” Steve said, “let’s get home so we can change.” 

 

They made it home, their duffle bags hiked on their shoulders, and quickly changed into something they could dance in. Then they were off, sneaking into the night to the little dance hall they’d found all those years ago. 

 

Mark and Victor were there, near the entrance as they talked with another older queer couple. “See, that’s what I said! I completely agree with you. What he did was wrong and blatantly disgust- Holy shit, Victor is that who I think it is?” Mark asked, mouth agape and his drink slowly slipping from his hand. 

 

Victor gasped, making Bucky and Steve blush as they felt his eyes on him, “Oh, Marky, our boys are back!” 

 

Bucky raised an eyebrow at Steve and mouthed, “Our boys?” Steve simply shrugged, his left hand on the small of Bucky’s back as he guided him towards the couple. 

 

Victor pulled them both into a big hug, his breath coming in quick successions as he held them. “It’s nice to see you again, Vic,” Steve said with a smile. 

 

“We were so worried for you two,” Victor admitted. “It’s still difficult to comprehend you boys left, ‘specially you Steven.” The older man sniffled. “No one ever thought you’d leave. Much less get over a hundred pounds.” Steve let out a bark of laughter, his face turning bright red. 

“Well we’re both glad to see you’re doing good,” Bucky told them as Victor let go. He took Steve’s hand, squeezing tight. Victor and Mark shared a knowing look, the couple gravitating towards one another. “What?” 

 

Steve rolled his eyes, an embarrassed laugh choking it’s way up his throat. “I, ugh, told them about what happened. I left for training two days after your deployment and Victor practically babysat me the day after you left. Spilled everything.” Bucky’s eyes turned sad for a moment. He gave an understanding nod and a small, thankful smile. Steve cleared his throat and turned to Mark, “So how have you two been since I saw you last?’

 

Mark chuckled. “It’s been hectic since you left, actually. People are always houndin’ the building, they know that’s where you live. They’re always out lookin’ for you, Rogers. You might want to be careful about how you carry yourself ‘round town.” Steve’s brow furrowed, that infamous disappointed, confused puppy look gracing his features and hitting everyone where it hurts the most. 

 

“I’m real sorry. I didn’t mean to bring all that to your doorstep. I-I know how dangerous it is for you guys as it is. I should have moved out. I should have gotten another place with my bonus. Or at least-”

  
“Steve,” Bucky interrupted, “it’s not your fault. It’s Brandt’s for not thinking things thoroughly. He should have seen this coming. You were just some naive kid who got an enhancement. But we’ll talk about that later. Let’s go dance, get your mind off it.” Bucky waved at the older couple and dragged Steve towards the dancing men before the Captain could protest. 

 

The band was bursting with energy as Bucky swung Steve around, the bigger man stumbling to keep his footing. “You know,” Bucky giggled, “for someone who can backflip off a burning building, you sure can’t dance.”

 

“You just move too fast,” Steve grumbled, a small pout evident on his face. 

 

Bucky laughed, pulling Steve’s body against his. “Do I now?”

 

“Yeah! I just can’t keep up.” Bucky nodded and tugged Steve over to the bar. He ordered two drinks, his grin never fading. Steve let himself drape over Bucky, his lips mouthing at Bucky’s neck. “I like being able to do this in public,” he whispered with Bucky’s earlobe tucked between his teeth. 

 

A sound of agreement was all Bucky could manage. “You think it’s too risky for us to be doin’ this now that you’re famous?” 

 

Steve shook his head and sat up. “Maybe. But no one’s gonna tell on us. If they did, there’s a chance people find out about this place. It’s too risky for any of us as it is. I don’t think anyone would be that greedy.” Steve paid for the drinks and handed Bucky his. “I don’t see why you bought me a drink. You know I can’t get tipsy anymore.”

 

“Steve,” Bucky said, “you never got tipsy. You always went straight to shitfaced.” Steve let out a scandalized gasp, his nose scrunched up a little. Bucky leaned over and kissed his chin, giggling all the while. “C’mon,” Bucky tipped the rest of his drink back, “I’m not done dancing yet.” 

 

The blond rolled his eyes, chugged his drink, and let the sergeant tug him back on the dance floor. The alcohol took effect by the time they reached the mass of men, Bucky already pulling Steve into a quick paced swing move. Steve laughed, subconsciously counting down until the buzz wore off. 

 

“I think I caught whatever you have,” Bucky grumbled with a pout.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“I’m not as tipsy as I should be.”

 

“Think it could be from, uh,” Steve cleared his throat, his eyebrows knitted together. Concerned puppy was back. . . 

 

Bucky shrugged. “Maybe? I’m still not one hundred percent on what exactly happened.” 

 

Steve’s jaw clenched. “Baby, I love you and all, but can we maybe. . . Not talk about that? I-” he groaned and shut his eyes for a moment, “it really pisses me off and I wanna enjoy tonight with you.” 

 

The brunet nodded and tugged Steve closer to kiss him quickly. “You’re still cute when you’re pissed, you know that?”

 

“I was never cute. Never.” Steve spun Bucky, getting the rhythm back in his feet. 

 

“I beg to differ. Little Stevie was always cute. Always. Especially when you got really excited, or you were sick, or you were just concentrating on your work. Oh, and I think you looked even cuter sleepy, when you’d get all cuddly and try and squirm your way into my arms during the night. And then there was-” Steve kissed him, hands on his hips and their feet barely moving. 

 

“Just shut up and dance.” 

 

At some point, when the majority of the crowd had left, Bucky had announced he was tired. They made their way back to the apartment, keeping a foot between them despite the desperation they both felt to keep touching, even if it was just a brush of their hands. “Why does this get harder?” Steve asked softly, his voice barely heard over the wind that whipped around them. 

 

Bucky shrugged, hands back in his pocket. “I don’t know,” he answered after a while, “it always feels like this.” Steve glanced at him, waiting for him to continue. Bucky kept quiet until they were a block away. “I guess before the war, we were always with each other. We could get away with being close, being overly touchy best friends. Hell, everyone assumed we were brothers with the way we acted in public. I can’t very well pull you into a headlock randomly anymore.” Steve laughed softly at that. “I think, because we can’t be like that anymore, it. . . It hurts more when we get a moment to ourselves, but have to go back to platonic best friends.” Bucky kept his voice low and his eyes forward, his teeth sinking into his lip. 

 

Steve nodded. “You’re probably right. But I like where we’re at.” 

 

“What do you mean?” he spared a glance at Steve as they reached their building. 

 

The captain didn’t say anything until they entered their beloved apartment. Everything was in it’s place, a newfound tidiness from months of military training had taken over the rooms, unlike the mess Little Steve Rogers used to leave in his wake. “Well, since we’ve settled everything, things have been different between us. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like we’re closer. Like, we’re invincible together.” They slipped off their dancing shoes, shucked off their suspenders and unbuttoned their shirts. Slowly, they made their way into their bedroom, still a bit unkempt from their earlier changing. 

 

Bucky smiled, dopey and giggly. “You really are a sap.” 

 

Steve shrugged, his skin just a little pink. “Maybe I am, but you love me.”

 

“I do. I really, really do.” Bucky moved and fell onto the bed, arms splayed out and his eyes closed. “Get over here, Captain.” Steve giggled and gave a playful salute before he jumped onto the bed beside him. He didn’t waste any time, quickly sealing his lips over Bucky’s. 

 

The next morning, Steve and Bucky met up with the Commandos at the diner outside of Brandt’s place. “Morning boys,” Steve announced as he and Bucky sat down between Dugan and Denier (Steve tended to sit beside Gabe or Denier and Bucky pretty much always sat beside Dugan).  

 

A chorus of ‘good mornings’ rumbled from around the table. They ordered and ate, sipping coffee quietly. “This,” Morita mumbled, “is the best coffee I’ve ever tasted.”

 

“Amen to that!” Dugan boomed. 

 

“Any coffee is better than the shit they give us over there,” Bucky added.

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “What do you expect? We can barely afford two uniforms, how are we going to afford good coffee?”

 

“That is very true.” Gabe pointed at the Captain before he turned to Dernier to translate.

 

“ _ Pourtant, ils peuvent se permettre de faire un film sur Captain America? _ ” Dernier asked with a smirk.

 

Steve let out a bark of laughter, a hand clapping Dernier on the shoulder. “He said, ‘Yet, they can afford to make a movie about Captain America?’” Steve translated in between gasps of breath. “Which is a very good question. _ C'est une très bonne question.  _ Thanks for doing this with me, fellas. I know it’s not exactly what you expected when you joined the army, but-”

 

“Steven,” Falsworth started, “no one cares. We’d rather shoot some Hollywood movie than go out and kill Nazi’s. Keeps us from getting more blood on our hands.” 

 

A somber silence fell across the table. No one moved, no one spoke, no one made eye contact. It was awkward and tense. 

 

Until Morita spoke, “You ever think about their families?” 

 

Bucky shook his head. “You can’t. You have to try and dehumanize them as much as possible, or else the guilt is too much.” 

 

“No, that’s not fair to them.” Steve sat up a bit straighter. “I have to remind myself that this was part of the job. They signed up for this, just like we did. And maybe not everybody wanted to be a soldier, but we’re all too stubborn and proud to admit what’s happening is wrong. Nobody has to fight. They can’t make you. They may draft you, but you can always try and get a less gruesome job. It’s their choice to pick up that weapon. It’s their choice to fight. Just like it’s our choice to go out there and do what needs to be done. It’s just the price we have to pay until the government officials can figure out a better way to stop them, to put an end to this war.” Steve shrugged, his eyes cast down.

 

The Commandos shared a knowing, sad look. “That’s why you’re Captain America,” Gabe stated. 

 

Bucky wrapped an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Exactly. To Captain America!” He raised his coffee mug up a little higher and grinned at Steve. 

 

Other patrons in the diner must have heard them, because it wasn’t just the other Commandos who toasted to Steve. A cheery round of applause filled the diner, the clanking of pots and pans silenced for a moment. Steve stood and gave a small, appreciative smile and wave to everyone, completely red. 

 

He sat back down, but not for long. Children were swarming the table, asking the Captain to sign their comic books or their shields. Women came up to them with warm smiles (some flirtatious) and thanked the Commandos for their service. Men walked up to shake their hands and give a salute of their own to the Captain.

 

It was all so overwhelming.

 

“I hate this,” Steve grumbled during a lull of traffic. 

 

“It’s not that bad. At least you're famous for a good reason. You’re Captain America! America’s Golden Boy! The Original super soldier! A superhero of the modern world!” Bucky stated, his words dripping with sarcasm. Steve glared at him and kicked him under the table. “Did you just kick me? Is that how this is gonna be? You get an ounce of fame and become some diva?” Steve rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh. 

 

Bucky kicked him back, causing Steve to glare at him again. “Don’t kick me.” He kicked him back, his lips pursed.

 

“Really? I only kicked you because you kicked me!” Bucky kicked him back, his own eyes squinted in a glare. “Fuckin’ punk.” 

 

Steve gasped. “Don’t call me a punk, ya jerk.” He kicked him back, but the laughter that bubbled in his chest wouldn’t stop. 

 

“Now, now, boys. We’re in public, let’s act like it,” Falsworth said, his hands out in a calming manor. It would have worked, if it wasn’t for his failed attempt to keep the grin off his face and the laughter out of his words. 

 

Steve shook his head and stuck out a hand. “Truce?”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes and groaned. “I suppose I can forgive you for now.” They shook hands, lingering just a little longer and squeezing just a little tighter. “C’mon, we gotta get Mr. Hollywood to his big movie thing.” Steve glared at him, but smiled nonetheless. 

 

They paid, said their goodbyes to the waitress, staff, and other patrons, and soon Captain America and the Howling Commandos were on their way to see Senator Brandt.

 

Steve led the way into the building. The Commandos watched as he said “Good morning” to just about every employee, addressing them by name, and occasionally inquiring about wives or children. It was amazing to watch the captain charm the pants off every employee he passed. 

 

“Who would have thought Steve Rogers would be popular?” Bucky mumbled as the soldiers squeezed into the elevator. 

 

The blond gave him a nasty side-eyed glance, but his lips twitched in amusement. “Behave Barnes. I have a reputation to uphold.” Steve winked at him, his body relaxed despite as he stood at ease. 

 

“Oh, I get it. You’re embarrassed by me?” Bucky shook his head, smiling at the Commandos laughing at the easy banter between their captain and sergeant. 

 

The doors opened, revealing a long hallway. “Yup.” Steve led the way down the hall, his good mood slowly evaporating. 

 

“Rogers! Nice to see you again,” Senator Brandt announced as Steve entered the conference room. Steve gave the older man a tight smile and stood at ease in front of the business men. “I see you’ve brought your friends.” 

 

Steve’s jaw clenched at the senator’s tone. “This is my team. If we’re making a movie about Captain America, then you’re going to want every aspect. And that includes my team, who happen to be my friends. Is there a problem, sir?” Steve cocked an eyebrow, but stayed completely still. 

 

Bucky shared a wary look with Dugan, their expressions a mixture of concern, amusement, and blatant pride. Bucky leaned in a bit closer and whispered, “This seem right to you?” 

 

“Not one bit,” the bigger man mumbled. 

 

Senator Brandt sat down and motioned to two men at the end of the table. “Gentlemen, please state your case.” 

 

A scrawny man with big eyes and a crooked nose stood and introduced himself as the writer of the film. The man sitting beside him stood and announced he was the director. The two men proceeded to pitch the film, a movie about Captain America defeating the Nazis, similar to the skit Steve would perform on tour.

 

“You want him to punch Hitler?” Bucky asked in a poor attempt to keep his laughter down. 

 

“Nothing I haven’t done before,” Steve smirked. 

 

“Oh, my bad, Mr. Badass.” Bucky rolled his eyes but straightened back up. “Sorry, please continue. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

 

The director and writer continued their pitch, adding in the Commandos here and there. Senator Brandt turned to Steve when they finished, a fake smile on his face. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’ll film part of it here and part of it back in Europe. You’re also going to do a bit of press during the week.” The senator stood up and collected his things. “By yourself,” he added as an afterthought.  

 

“And what are the rest of the Commandos supposed to do?” Steve crossed his arms, his jaw clenched tight and his brow furrowed as he glared at the Senator. 

 

The senator’s expression sharpened, his eye barely twitching. “Excuse me, Captain?” 

 

Steve’s voice was deadly serious. “What will the rest of the Commandos do for the week?” 

 

“They,” the senator started slowly, “can do whatever it is you fellas do. Now you’re dismissed. Leave.” Steve clenched his fists and marched out the room, fuming. 

 

The Commandos scrambled after him, unsure of what to do and completely. Steve marched down to the elevator hit the button, and motioned with a sweep of his hand for the men to walk inside. “I’ll catch up with you later,” Steve mumbled as he reached inside and hit the button. 

 

He didn’t give anyone a chance to respond.

 

“Well,” Dugan mumbled, “that was weird.” 

 

WInifred opened the door and wrangled each soldier into a bear hug. “I still can’t believe you boys are home. It’s like a dream!” Winnie said giddily as she kissed Bucky’s cheek. 

 

“I might have to try and steal your mother, Barnes,” Dugan announced as he took off his hat. 

 

Bucky glared at him, his arms wrapped tightly around his mother. “Mine.”

 

“Hush, James, You can share.” Winifred patted Bucky’s arms and her son let go. She ushered the Commandos inside, already getting ready fix dinner. “Where’s Steve?”

 

The Commandos shared an uneasy look. Bucky glared at the table, his knees bouncing rapidly. “He’s at work,” Morita offered.

 

“Work?”

 

“He had to do solo Captain America promotions. I think he’s going on the radio later this afternoon, then we film part of his media tomorrow,” Gabe explained. 

 

Winnie gasped. “The radio?” She hurried into the living room and the apartment was filled with an upbeat jazz song. “What station?” Bucky grumbled out the station and stood to grab a few beers out the fridge. The music changed to a slower melody, a woman’s voice filling the air as she sang a song of sorrow. “Oh how exciting! I can’t believe little Stevie’s goin’ to be on the radio!” 

 

“Ma, he’s not little anymore-”

 

“It’s still hard to believe he’s still alive, much less a soldier. And a good one at that! James, do you remember when Steve got that really bad case of pneumonia-”

 

“Which one?” Bucky handed the other Commandos a beer each, his jaw tense at the conversation. 

  
Winifred threw her hands up, an amazed smile on her face. “Exactly! You boys don’t even understand how sickly Steve was before the serum. I got pictures of him when he was no bigger than my thigh. It seemed like every other month he was in the hospital with some illness. George and I could have sworn the kid was goin’ to die a few-”

 

“Ma!” Bucky roared, turning away to grab the counter. He squeezed his eyes shut, his stomach queasy and his throat tight. Bucky took a deep breath and said softly, “Please. We don’t need to bring all that up. Steve’s healthy and he ain’t dyin’ any time soon. Let’s not, okay?”

 

There was an awkward silence, everyone watching Bucky calm himself down. Daisy poked her head around the corner of the hallway. Dernier noticed her and smiled, the man not completely aware of the situation (but context clues told him it obviously wasn’t good).

 

Winnie’s shoulders deflated, her smile turning sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I didn’t mean to make it a negative thing. I forget how close you boys are to death everyday. I just wasn’t thinking.” She walked over to Bucky and placed a gentle hand on his back. “Are you okay?” 

 

Bucky nodded, turned, and wrapped his mother in another bear hug. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I just really, really hate thinking about Steve being on his deathbed. ‘Specially not right now.” 

 

She held him tighter and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I know, baby. Those were always the hardest of times. I get it. You must worry about him all the time over there,” she said quietly.

 

The Commandos looked away, nursing their beers and trying their hardest to ignore the conversation. He nodded, his head tucked under her chin. “I think he may be in trouble with this Cap thing.” 

 

“Why do you say that?”

  
“Ma,” Bucky pulled away to look at her at arm's length, “he was real cross and Brandt was a major jerk to him. I didn’t get a chance to talk to him when we left. But somethin’ ain’t right,” Bucky explained. 

 

“‘M glad I ain’t the only one who noticed that,” Dugan interjected. 

 

Bucky let his mother go and turned to his friends. “So it wasn’t just me hatin’ the guy? You really did pick up on something weird?” 

 

Dugan nodded. “I’ve seen Steve take things seriously and get riled up during arguments and debates, but I’ve never seen him that pissed.” 

 

“Maybe it’s his contract?” Falsworth supplied.

 

Bucky nodded his head, half listening as he started to pace. “He would have told me if something was up. He should have-”

 

“Did you two finally fix things?” Daisy asked from her seat between Dernier and Dugan. Her head was tilted and her glare accusing. She knew pretty much everything about Steve and Bucky’s relationship, and Steve’s side of the break-up. No one had bothered to catch her up. (It was too risky to write in a letter.) 

 

The eldest Barnes child tensed. “We did,” he answered softly, followed by a gulp of his beer. “But you and I will speak of that later. Alright?”

 

“Works for me.” Daisy shrugged, a smile returning to her cheery face. 

 

“What if it’s-” Winifred was cut off by the sound of a familiar voice coming over the radio.

 

“This is Captain America and I’m here to remind you that we still need your help. Supplies are limited and the war’s still raging on. We need you all at home to pitch in and buy bonds. Please remember each one you buy is a bullet in the barrel of your best guy’s gun!” Steve’s voice was tinny and not at all his. It was Captain America, not Steve. 

 

Bucky was really starting to hate ‘Captain America.’ 

 

Another man’s voice came on and announced, “Stay tuned for the tales of Captain America!” The music returned and everyone turned back to their conversation. 

 

Daisy gasped and giggled as she looked up at her brother with expectant eyes. “Hey Bucky?” He grunted, guzzling his beer. “Can we build a pillow fort?”

 

Bucky groaned. “No-”

 

“I’m game.” Morita shrugged, smiling behind his beer. 

 

“We shall make a pillow fort and Daisy shall be our queen!” Falsworth declared, his accent making the words sound eloquent and official. 

 

Dugan and Gabe raised their bottles and beamed. “Huzzah!” 

 

Daisy giggled and batted her eyelashes. Bucky groaned, chugged his beer, and nodded towards their mother. “Ask her.”

 

“It’s fine with me.” WInifred said, already moving about the kitchen with ease as she prepared to cook dinner. 

 

Bucky sighed and pointed to the living room. He took a deep breath and smiled. “Onward my fellow knights,” he said in his best Medieval voice.

 

They took over the living room and made a pillow fort big enough for several adults. The soldiers huddled into the fort with Daisy, laughing at just how ridiculous this must look. Eventually, Eugene and Daisy stopped by for dinner and the two joined the fort immediately. Rose was having an absolute blast walking all over the adults.

 

Steve stayed on the radio practically all night; he’d give little blurbs of Cap/bond promotions, answer a few fan questions, and give a censored version of one of their war stories. That’s when the Commandos would tell the group the real version (that was still censored to an extent. . . No one needed to know about the graphic details). 

 

By the time Steve got home, everyone but Bucky was asleep. The sergeant crawled out the fort and slid his boots on. “C’mon, Captain. Let’s head home,” he whispered before Steve could say anything. 

 

Steve smiled, glanced around, and pulled Bucky in for a chaste kiss. “I really needed that,” he whispered against Bucky’s lips.

 

Bucky pulled him in for another one, this time a bit longer but still simple and sweet. “I figured. C’mon, I’m tired and I’m sure you’re exhausted.” He grabbed a piece of paper, scribbled a note saying they were heading home, and tugged Steve out the door. 

 

“I’m not that tired, just so you know.” Steve smirked and Bucky couldn’t help but roll his eyes, his laughter ruining the illusion. 

 

“Neither am I.” 

 

The next day, the Commandos found themselves in a small little movie studio with fake sets of European war settings. They were all in uniform, their usual battle gear cleaned and ready for shooting. 

 

Steve ducked behind the fake car, shield raised high above him. He waited, mouthing something to Gabe, followed by a series of one handed gestures. (The Commandos had all agreed it was easier to give signs with one hand when you have a gun - or shield in Steve’s case - in the other. It just made sense.)

 

Gabe signed something else back, a fake gun held tight in his arms. Steve nodded, glanced over his shoulder, and gave the signal. Steve and Gabe popped up, Steve covering the two with his shield as they ran to the next safety zone where Morita was waiting. 

 

“Cut!” A man, the director Bucky recalled, shouted. “Something's just not right. Let’s do it again, but no weird hand gestures this time.” 

 

“I thought you said to make this realistic?” Steve countered. “We use hand signals to communicate, it’s safer than shouting. And, you know, we kind of can’t hear over the bullets flying over our heads.” The captain, dressed in his famous red, white, and blue uniform, raised an eyebrow that was barely visible from underneath his mask. 

 

The director sighed dramatically. “You can’t possibly tell me you allow yourselves to look like monkeys just to communicate?”

 

“Sir, with all due respect, we don’t need you to tell us how to do our jobs. Besides, we aren’t even using our real signals. That’d be dangerous and quite frankly stupid.” Steve crossed his arms.

 

Bucky and Dugan snickered from their position by the snack table. They’d only wanted Steve, Gabe, Dernier, and Morita for the scene, which left Dugan, Bucky, and Falsworth. “I can’t tell if I’m glad or upset not to be in the film,” Falsworth commented. 

 

“I don’t think Steve wants to do this either. He looks ready to rip the director’s head off,” Bucky added with a breath of laughter. 

 

Dugan hummed. “This reeks of Brandt’s decision and poor marketing.” 

 

“Agreed,” chimed Bucky and Falsworth. 

 

There was a heartbeat of silence as they watched their teammates reenact a censored war story (that the writer had tweaked. . . a lot). It wasn’t until Falsworth nudged Dum Dum and gave him a playful glare that their silence was broken. 

 

“So, um, Barnes, yesterday was. . .eventful. Wanna fill us in?”

 

Bucky sighed. “Not particularly.”

 

“We, as a team, are concerned Sarge. We care about you and that, whatever happened, didn’t look healthy.” Falsworth patted Bucky’s shoulder. When the Brooklyn man didn’t say anything more, Falsworth added, “You can either tell us or we tell the Captain and you can tell him.”

 

Bucky glared at him. “Lil’ snitch,” he grumbled as he stepped away from the table. He walked over to a corner, where a little wall jutted out to hang props and costumes on, and called over his shoulder, “C’mon.” 

 

The three men huddled in the corner, away from the snack table but still in view of the stage in case the director needed them. Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “What exactly do you two want to know?”

 

“Why you flipped out on your mother when she started talking about Steve being sick and dying,” Dugan said as casually as possible.

 

Bucky nodded and glanced towards the stage, where Steve and Gabe were shooting fake nazis. “Steve really was scrawny. That’s actually how we met, because he was too small and fragile to play with the other kids on the playground. We were six and seven,” he clarified. “He had just about everything you can imagine. Asthma, heart trouble, high blood pressure, he had scarlet fever one winter and chronic colds. And that’s not even everything. But he was my best friend and we were inseparable. So yes, talking about his death and him being sick is a really sensitive issue. I know he’s fine now, but it still hurts to think if we had waited another day to get him to the doctor or had blown off a case of pneumonia for a cold, he wouldn’t be here.” 

 

“James, we’re sorry. We didn’t mean to drudge up a topic you aren’t comfortable talking about,” Falsworth said softly. 

 

Dugan cleared his throat, getting their attention. “What do you mean ‘were inseparable?’” 

Bucky sighed. “Before the war, we were thick as thieves. We lived together, went on double dates that I scored for us - because Steve couldn’t get any dame to look at him twice without my help until Agent Carter came around, we would visit my folks, or listen to the game together. We did everything together just about.” Bucky paused, his eyes a little unfocused as he watched the stage. 

 

“So what happened?” Dugan whispered. This seemed like another difficult topic for the sergeant, important even.

 

“I messed it all up. We got into a big fight the night before I got shipped out. And you gotta remember, we never fought. Never. I mean, we bickered about little things like laundry and stealing each other’s food, but nothing disastrous like that night. We didn’t talk until he saved our asses in Azzano. I was just so out of it that I let myself indulge in havin’ my best friend back that when I got my brain back on. . . I pushed him away because I thought I had done the right thing by leaving him behind.” Bucky took a deep breath and shuffled his feet, the toes of his boots knocking into each other.

 

Falsworth crossed his arms, deep in thought as he processed the information. Bucky continued, “Decided it wasn’t worth it. ‘S why we’re back to being friends again.”

 

“What was the fight about?” Dugan asked, leaning against the wall. 

 

Bucky’s face twitched with a flinch, his gray eyes flickering to Steve. “Not important. ‘S over now.” 

 

And then, after a long lapse of silence, Falsworth said three words that scared Bucky to death.

 

“You love him.” 

 

Bucky panicked as Dugan laughed awkwardly. “Course he loves him! They’re like brothers!” Dugan didn’t even sound so sure, however. “Right?” he offered weakly.

 

Expectant eyes fell onto Bucky, who was frozen in panic. ‘ _ Quick, tell ‘em off for suggesting such a vile thing! Agree with Dugan! Goddammit Barnes, just say something! _ ’ 

 

“I do,” he whispered, barely audible. 

 

“Called it. I thought I heard you two sneaking off a couple of nights before we left. And, not to mention, I saw you two last night when Steve came home,” Falsworth told him calmly. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” 

 

Bucky faltered, eyes wet, mouth agape. “What?”

 

Falsworth patted his shoulder. “James, my friend, your relationship with Captain Rogers doesn’t concern me. It’s between you two. Just know that it doesn’t disgust me nor am I bothered by it or whatever else you’re thinking. I just want you two happy, given that you’re like an extension of my family. You know that right?” Bucky nodded weakly, still a bit blindsided. “You have nothing to worry about with us Commandos. Right Timothy?” They turned to Dugan who simply grinned.

 

“Really?” Bucky squeaked.

 

“Barnes, we’re brother!” Dugan slung an arm over Bucky’s shoulders. “You’re stuck with us. Whether you like it or not. Yeah, sure, this is a bit of a big secret, but it’s still you and Rogers. Ain’t like this is gonna change our opinion on you.” 

 

Bucky felt like crying, overwhelmed by the supposr tnad care the two men were offering. He didn’t care whether or not they could be called for some dumb scene in a stupid move that didn’t even begin to explain how incredible Steve was. He didn’t care if he was supposed to be some strong soldier who never showed emotion to other men (also George Barnes). He didn’t care if people were watching or thought they were weird.

 

He didn’t care. 

  
So Bucky threw both of his arms around Dugan and Falsworth and held them tight. “Thank you,” he whispered.

 

In retrospect, he probably should have cared. Because standing on the other side of the thin wall was one of Brandt’s assistance. He was checking the costumes on the other side, making sure they were to Brandt’s expectation

 

And he heard everything. 

 

Steve marched into the dressing room, pissed at the world. He knew he couldn’t throw a tantrum (even though he really, really wanted to) in the middle of his dressing room, not when anyone (the Commandos - as much as he loves them, they really don’t need to see him at his lowest, a stagehand, the director, extras, etc.) could walk in. He’d have to wait until they allowed him to return to his apartment. Bucky wouldn’t care if Steve let out a bit of rage. Hell, he’d probably offer to take him down to Goldie’s to spar for real. 

 

That honestly didn’t seem like a bad idea.

 

The blond tossed his helmet across the room and let his shield fall into one of the makeup chairs before he sat himself down on the sofa. His elbows rested on his knees and his hands covered his face completely, strands of his hair tickling his fingertips from where they fell from the confines of his helmet.

 

“Rogers, you alright?” Dugan asked as he led the Commandos inside the dressing room. 

 

“Not really,” he mumbled into his palms.

 

He felt the cushion beside him dip and the familiar scent of Bucky’s aftershave wafted into Steve’s nose. Bucky rubbed his back, with a sympathetic smile that Steve could just feel it (sometimes Steve worried about how well they knew one another, but in times like this it was quite comforting). “What’s the matter big guy?” 

 

Steve let his hands drop. “This fucking movie is shit,” he grumbled.

 

A rumble of soft chuckles filled the room, more vibration than sound. “That’s Hollywood for you.” Dugan shrugged. 

 

“Yeah, well, I really wish they’d let me have some control over it. It’s my image they’re toying with-”

 

“On the contrary, Steven. Captain America is mine. That’s what the contract says. We discussed this,” Senator Brandt said as he waltzed into the room. He turned to the other soldiers. “Would you give me a moment with the Captain?” 

 

Steve glared at the man, his body tense and jaw clenched. Bucky stood, stopping all contact between them. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he started, hands splayed in front of him in calming manner. 

 

The senator crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow. “It wasn’t a request. I can have you boys shipped back immediately. I suggest you take your friends and leave the room before I have you removed.” Gabe and Morita grabbed Bucky’s arms, tugging him out the room without a word. Senator Brandt slammed the door behind them and turned to Steve with a scowl. 

 

“Is there a problem, sir?” Steve asked with as much passive aggression he could muster. 

 

“There is.” Senator Brandt paced the room for a moment before he paused to face the opposite wall, his back to Steve. “How did you meet your precious Howling Commandos?” 

 

Steve faltered, his eyebrows twitching upward for a moment. “The Commandos? We met when I penetrated the Hydra base when the 107th infantry was taken as prisoners. They helped me get everyone out while I looked for Bucky-”

 

“While you looked for Mr. Barnes? You mean to tell me you risked your life and the lives of four hundred men for Mr. Barnes?” The senator accused.

 

“Yes sir. Bucky’s my best friend, has been since we were kids-”   
  
The senator crossed his arms. “You knew him before the war?” 

 

“Yes sir?” Steve was utterly confused at this point, his brain in overdrive trying to figure out where exactly the senator was going with this. 

 

Senator Brandt shook his head and turned back around. “I want him out of the Commandos.” 

 

“Bucky?”

 

“Yes, ‘Bucky,’” Brandt spat, his glare piercing Steve’s eyes. 

 

Steve’s brow furrowed again, his jaw clenched and his lips pursed. “Why would you want him out of  _ my _ team? You have no power. You have no right.” His voice was steady and venomous, yet calm at the same time. As calm as he could be. 

 

Senator Brandt’s face twisted in disgust. “I have no right? I own you!” He bellowed. “I own everything about you. _ You  _ have no right to tell me what to do, understand?” 

 

“You own nothing but a silly piece of paper. I make my own decisions and I run my team the way I want to. Sergeant Barnes stays,” Steve started, jabbing at the air with his index finger with each word.

 

“I don’t want some faggot influencing your-”

 

Steve snatched the senator up by the lapels of his suit, his teeth bared at the older man. He growled, “The fuck did you just call him?”

 

The senator scrambled for a moment, his eyes a little wild. The initial shock subsided and the scowl returned to Brandt’s face. “You heard me. He’s a faggot, a queer who deserves to rot in hell-” 

 

“Don’t you ever call him that,” Steve growled again, shaking the man for emphasis. “You don’t get to call him that. You don’t get to call him anything. You don’t know anything.-” 

 

Senator Brandt glared up at the super soldier. “I have on good authority that your precious Sergeant Barnes is queer and has expressed feelings for you.” Steve’s face stayed deadly still, his emotions hidden beneath his features. The senator continued, “He’s a distraction, a disgrace, and a disgusting piece of-”

 

Steve punched him. The sound of a nose cracking echoed in his ears as his fist pummeled the man’s face. A splatter of blood hit Steve’s cheek as the door burst open. 

 

“Whoa! Whoa! Steve!” Gabe shouted as he ran into the room, the other Commandos following suit. Gabe, Dugan, and Bucky grabbed at Steve, trying their damndest to pull the super soldier off the senator.

 

“The fuck happened?” Bucky asked, giving one last tug to pull Steve off. The senator fell from Steve’s grip with a groan. 

 

Steve ignored them in favor of kneeling down to Brandt’s level. “We aren’t done with this conversation. Understood?” The senator merely groaned as he stumbled to stand up. Steve helped him up and guided him out the dressing room, the wary gazes of his fellow soldiers following his every move. 

 

He pushed the senator out of the room and slammed the door. Steve let his body lean against the wall, sliding down until his head was resting on his knees. 

 

“Hey Captain?” Dugan interjected. “Would you mind bringing us up to speed?” 

 

Steve took a deep breath, his blood still boiling beneath his skin. He stood slowly, very aware of his teammates worried (and a little scared, honestly) expressions. ‘ _ You’ve scared them. You gotta be careful, Rogers. You don’t want to become a monster _ ,’ he thought as he walked closer to the team. 

 

Bucky stood in front of them all, hands by his sides and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. He stood there without an ounce of fear. “Steve, you okay?”

 

The blond shook his head. “No. No, I’m not,” he said carefully. The captain stopped in front of him, his brows furrowed and a sliver of anger still evident on his face. “We need to talk.” 

 

“I know we do. That’s what I was trying to do before Senator-” Bucky tried. 

 

“Don’t say his name,” Steve growled, his eyes squeezed shut. 

 

Bucky’s eyes widened a little as he watched Steve fight with himself to stay calm. He glanced back at the Commandos, unsure of what to do or how to navigate this situation. He’d known how to calm down Steve when he was ninety pounds, but now? He’s a super soldier for crying out loud! How do you calm down a super soldier without getting yourself hurt? 

 

But this is Steve, not some crazed super soldier from a science fiction novel. He’s too sweet to do major damage on purpose, not without a justified reason. 

 

“Steve, talk to me. What’s going on?” Bucky whispered and took a step forward. 

 

Steve let out a deep breath. “We really need to talk in private, Buck. And at home.” He glanced over his shoulder at the door, his shoulders tense. 

 

“Is this some ploy to get you two alone for private sexy times?” Dugan asked quietly in a mock whisper. Steve froze, a horrified expression plastered on his face. 

 

Bucky blushed with a breathy laugh. “Yeah, um, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. Uh, they know.” 

 

Steve stumbled back, a hand on his head. “Fuck.” He shook his head, his eyes squeezed tight. “No, this can’t be happening.” 

 

“Steve, they don’t care-”

 

“It’s not them I’m worried about Bucky!” Steve snapped. He turned around, snatched up his helmet, shield, his duffle bag, and headed towards the door. “C’mon. We need to go home. It’s not safe to talk here.” 

 

No one said a word until the door shut behind Steve. “I feel like we missed something,” Morita mumbled.

 

The other Commandos turned to him, each with a ‘seriously?’ look on their face. “No, Jim. That’s just how Steve acts all the time,” Bucky deadpanned. With that, he grabbed his things and followed after Steve. 

 

Steve didn’t say a word the entire ride home. And he wouldn’t let Bucky sit beside him, instead making Morita sit between him and Dugan. The tension radiating off them was palpable and awkward, growing with each minute they were stuck in the car. 

 

The Howling Commandos scrambled out of the car once they reached Steve and Bucky’s apartment building, the seven soldiers charging up the stairs. Steve practically ripped the door off the hinges as he busted into the apartment, dropping all of his stuff - except for his shield - by the door. He plopped down on the couch and put his head in his hands. “You wanna tell everyone why you’re in such a pissy mood?” Bucky snapped, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. The rest of the Commandos awkwardly shuffled inside, huddling closer to the door. 

 

Steve waited until the door shut. He rubbed his face a few times before he looked up with tears in his eyes at Bucky. “Brandt knows.” 

 

Bucky’s jaw dropped, his bottom lip trembling. “Wha- How?”

 

Steve shrugged. “I’m assuming someone overheard you telling them,” he nodded towards the Commandos. “That’s the only explanation I can think of. Unless someone deliberately told him or he’s spying on us.” 

 

“But, we weren’t even talking all that loud? We were whispering and- and I made sure we were kind of off to the side just in case. I don’t- I didn’t mean-” Bucky started, his own eyes watering. 

 

“I don’t mean to intrude in such a delicate situation,” Falsworth started, “but what does this mean? Is he going to have you arrested?” 

 

Steve stood to his feet, his anger dissolving with each step as he walked towards Bucky. “I’m not sure, really. He wanted Bucky off the team and away from me completely. I don’t think he understands it’s mutual.”

 

“After the dents you made on his face, I don’t think there’s any questioning it,” Morita mumbled.

 

The captain cursed under his breath, tugging at his hair. “I didn’t want to hurt him. Really, I didn’t. But he called Bucky a. . .” Steve took a deep breath, his face twisted in disgust as he tried to say the word, “a faggot and I flipped.” 

 

There was an awkward silence as everything sunk in. “Steve, what do we do?” Bucky whispered. 

 

Steve hugged Bucky close to him, his grip tight and grounding. “I don’t know.” 

 

Bucky closed his eyes. It felt weird to hold Steve like this with people around. But boy did he need this. 

 

Dugan cleared his throat. “We’re going to grab something to eat and bring it back. Give you two a chance to talk things over.” Steve gave him a small, tight smile and a short nod, his appreciation shown his eyes. 

 

When the door shut behind the soldiers, Steve let Bucky go just a little, enough to look down at him comfortably. “Buck, I’m really sorry.” 

 

Bucky shook his head. “Don’t be sorry, Stevie. It ain’t your fault, it’s mine. I should’ve been more careful. Should’ve checked to see if anyone was listening. I shouldn’t have told them to begin with, but Falsworth just. . . said it. Didn’t really give me a warning and I couldn’t exactly disprove it when I was stuck in shock.” 

 

Steve placed a soft kiss against Bucky’s temple, lingering as the words soaked in. “Baby, you I’m not mad you told them. I’m not ashamed of us, nor have I ever been and I hope I won’t ever be. I just,” he swallowed the lump in his throat and dropped his voice to a whisper, “I’m scared, Buck. Dammit, I’m scared. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s the best option here.”

 

The brunet pulled away just a little and kissed at the super soldier’s chin. “I’m scared, too,” he whispered. Bucky sniffled and curled into Steve’s arms. “What’d we get ourselves into?”  

 

“I don’t know,” Steve whispered. He took a few steps towards the couch, dragging Bucky with him, and fell backwards onto cushions. Bucky let out a squeal, followed by a fit of laughter. Steve laughed and hugged the brunet closer to his chest, enjoying the weight of Bucky’s body on his. 

 

Bucky laid his head on Steve’s chest as their laughter quieted. “Are you still mad?”

 

“I’m always mad, Buck. I’m beyond pissed with Brandt right now. I’m pissed that we can’t be ourselves. I’m pissed that we can’t love each other because of our anatomy. I’m pissed that after we leave the war life will be just as dangerous for us. I hate this situation we’re in. Hell, I hate being Captain America at this point.” Steve sighed so deeply Bucky felt himself rise and fall with his chest and couldn’t help but giggle. “Will you stop? I’m being genuine and serious here,” Steve tried, but his own laughter was getting in the way.

 

The brunet shrugged. “Not my fault. I’m not used to this. Usually when we laid like this, I was the one on the bottom-”

 

“You still are,” Steve interjected with a smirk. 

 

Bucky deadpanned, “Ha ha, very funny Captain.” He laid his head back down, eyes closed again. “Feel free to continue.” 

 

Steve pressed a quick kiss to Bucky’s hair. “Brandt was always a dick. He was pretty nice when I got the serum and after Erskine passed, but once I came in for a Captain America meeting. . . He was completely different after I signed the contract. I’ve been waiting to punch his sorry ass since he brought in the showgirls our first meeting.” 

 

A giggle slipped past Bucky’s lips, the older man hiding his face in the crook of Steve’s neck. “I always forget you were - are, I guess - a piece of propaganda. I just can’t see you up on some stage in tights dancing with a bunch of dames.” 

 

“That’s because I didn’t dance. I lifted a motorcycle. Very manly.” Steve looked down at him with a completely serious expression, a spark of laughter twinkling in his eyes. 

 

“Oh, my apologies Captain,” Bucky rolled his eyes. “Although I wouldn’t mind seeing you lift that bike. Bet you looked good enough to eat hoisting it up like it was nothing. Bet you could do it with one hand.” Bucky kissed at Steve’s neck making the younger man groan quietly beneath him. “Tell me if I’m wrong, sugar,” he whispered.

 

Steve groaned again, his hands on Bucky’s waist. “Buck, don’t start somethin’ we can’t finish. The boys will be back any minute now and we are supposed to be having an adult conversation.”

 

Bucky let up on the kisses and pushed himself up so he could look Steve in the eye. He cocked an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. “What’s more adult than sex?”

 

“Stop,” Steve laughed. “Seriously, we need to talk things through without getting distracted. So up,” Steve patted Bucky’s ass, “get off me.” 

 

With a scoff and a pout, Bucky climbed off Steve, letting the captain sit up. “Alright, finish what you were saying, Captain mood-killer.” 

 

Steve glared at him playfully, a sock clad foot pushing the sergeant in the chest. “Anyways. Once Brandt kicked you guys out today, he went on this rant about how you shouldn’t be near me, shouldn’t be on my time, shouldn’t ruin my image,” Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Then when I pulled the ‘it’s my team, I do what I want’ card, he tried to say he ‘owned’ me.”

 

An angry crease formed on Bucky’s forehead. “Just because of your contract?’

 

“Pretty much. I told him off for it. Then he started talking about you being queer and shit. That’s when I lost it.” Steve sighed, his head falling a little in shame.

 

Bucky scooted closer to cup Steve’s head in his hands. “Hey, you did what was right. He deserved it. That ain’t no way for a man to talk, no matter his power. You did the right thing, Stevie. I’m proud of you.” 

 

Steve nodded, but he wasn’t really listening. His mind kept playing the scene over and over again in his head. How quickly he snatched the senator up, the feel of the man’s face crumbling under his fist, the blood that still stained his skin and clothes. . . And the words Dr. Erskine had told him the night before he got the serum, the story of Johann Schmidt. “Do you think I’ll become a monster one day? Like Schmidt did?”

 

“No,” Bucky stated without a hint of hesitation. “Even the fact that you’re worried about that shows you won’t ever let yourself get to that point. Isn’t that why Erskine picked you in the first place? Because you wouldn’t abuse your newfound power?” Steve gave a weak nod. “Then have a little faith in yourself, babydoll. Alright?” Steve nodded again. Bucky leaned in to kiss the corner of Steve’s pretty pink lips. “‘Sides, I’ll be there if you start getting a big head. Not that your head has ever been normal-”

 

Steve surged forward for an actual kiss, one hand on the back of Bucky’s neck and the other on his hip. “Shut up, Barnes.” 

 

Eventually the Commandos returned with burgers and shakes and awkward smiles. “Talk everything out?” Gabe asked as they sat around the living room.

 

Steve and Bucky exchanged a look and shrugged. “Kind of,” Bucky mumbled around his straw. “We talked about some things, but not everything.” 

 

The captain cleared his throat and sat up a little. “But now we should talk. I’m, uh, sure you guys have questions.” 

 

There was an awkward silence among the Commandos before Morita spoke up. “Did you guys trick us into getting rid of that tent so you two could sleep together?” 

 

Bucky laughed, head slung back and his eyes squeezed shut. Steve blushed, chuckling. “Not really. I mean, I didn’t stop you guys, but I didn’t manipulate you into getting rid of it.” 

 

“Was that after you two made up? Sarge told us you two had issues and just recently made up,” Falsworth explained.

 

Steve raised an eyebrow and glanced at his boyfriend (it still made him dizzy to think of Bucky as his boyfriend). “How much did you tell them?” 

 

“I was very vague, don’t worry.” Bucky winked at him. “It was after we made up,” he clarified. 

 

“Do you guys have sex with us near by?”

 

“Not always.”

 

“When you pull Bucky into your tent is it for actual work or are you guys just foolin’ around?” 

 

“It starts out as actual work, then someone usually gets distracted. And that’s usually Bucky.”

 

“Not my fault you look good in your uniforms.”

 

“Who all knows?”

 

“You guys, Brandt and who ever told him,” Steve’s voice turned dark at the senator’s name. He cleared his throat and continued, “some of our neighbors know - but then again, they’re also queer, Bucky’s sister Daisy knows, and we told my Ma before she passed.” 

 

Bucky clapped his hands. “Any other questions?” 

 

The Commandos shared a few looks from over their burgers and shakes. Dugan was the one who spoke next, “What are you guys going to do know that Brandt knows?” 

 

Steve sighed and set down his third burger (it’s the super soldier metabolism, okay?). “I’m not sure. I’ve been mulling over what my next step will be, if I still have a job that is. Even then, I’m not sure what exactly will happen. There’s a likely chance Bucky and I could be arrested,” he took Bucky’s hand with a sad smile. 

 

There wasn’t much he could do, not without getting Bucky arrested - or worse, killed. He’d practically told the senator that Bucky was queer. Steve leaned forward, burger forgotten in his lap and Bucky’s hand held tight in his. He kissed the back of his hand as he thought, his options playing out in his mind. He’d been around the business enough to know how people would react to certain headlines or how not to offend people. He had to be careful, he had to tactical. 

 

He had to treat this like a mission. 

 

Steve’s eyes widened as everything fell into place. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said in his ‘Captain America’ voice. 

 

The next morning, Steve and the Commandos marched into Brandt’s office in full uniform (minus the weapons but including Steve’s shield). Steve guided them in, with Bucky and Dugan on either side of him and the other four taking the back (they looked like geese, but no one said anything). 

 

This wasn’t just a meeting. 

 

This was a battle.

 

The filed into the elevator, standing expectantly with their heads held high and their shoulders pushed back. Steve stared ahead and spoke softly, “Remember the plan.  _ Dernier et Gabe, vous avez les autres membres du conseil hors de la salle. Assurez-vous que les portes sont verrouillées derrière eux et gardez-les _ . Dugan and Falsworth, you two will keep the senator in his seat. He’s not to get up for anything. Morita, you get the phone. It’s in the far corner, near the windows, on a small side table. Get ready to dial, but don’t actually dial the paper. That’s just in case he doesn’t cave. And Buck,” Steve glanced over his shoulder, “you make sure I don’t kill the guy.” 

 

Bucky shrugged. “No promises. He calls me a faggot,” Steve cringed at the word, “again then I just might let you at him.” 

 

“Let’s not. I don’t need the city thinking I’m a murderer.” Steve shook his head.

 

Dugan shrugged. “It’s not like your hands are clean. We’ve killed over there. We’re soldiers, it’s what we do.”

 

“That may be true, but a) I don’t try to kill people and b) people disconnect soldiers from the gritty stuff. They don’t think about what we do over there, not on a surface level at least.” A heavy silence passed as the elevator came to a stop on their floor. “Let’s do this fellas.” 

 

They marched out the elevator, back in their formation. Steve led them to the conference room, bursting through the double doors easily. “Good morning. We need to speak to Senator Brandt for a moment. No questions asked,” Steve commanded as soon as the doors opened. Shocked faces swiveled to greet them, the senator’s own bruised face filled with horror. Steve spoke a bit calmer, his tone gentle and polite, “If you all could give us a moment alone, that would be just swell.” 

 

Dernier and Gabe got to work on kicking the councilmen out the room, closing the doors behind them with a salute to their captain. “Captain Rogers, I suggest you leave this building at once before I call the police,” a blindsided Senator Brandt stammered. 

 

Steve raised an eyebrow, arms crossed and his feet a shoulder’s width apart. He stood at the opposite end of the table, with Bucky by his side. “Really now? You really think a group of policemen can take down a super soldier? Much less a super soldier and his troop of soldiers?” Steve gave a bitter laugh. “No, I think not.” 

 

Dugan and Falsworth made their way around the table, both men coming from opposing angles. “What’s going on?” the senator questioned as Dugan laid a heavy hand on his shoulder.

 

“We just want to talk, real civilized like. We don’t want another episode like yesterday to happen. S’why we’re here,” Dugan explained. They stood on either side of him, keeping him in his place. 

 

Steve glanced over his shoulder to Morita, who stood beside the phone at ease. The captain gave a nod and sat down in the chair across from the senator. Bucky moved to stand beside him, hands held tightly behind him and his face devoid of all emotion. “Senator Brandt, I’d like to apologize for yesterday,” Steve started with a sincerity only he could he master. “There’s no excuse for my behavior. It was uncalled for and downright appalling.” 

 

‘ _ What a little liar. Maybe that acting gig did him some good _ ,’ Bucky thought as a smirk twitched at his lips. 

 

“You assaulted me,” the senator sneered.

 

Steve nodded with a small, sad smile. “I know. I wasn’t in my right mind - and that’s no excuse, I know this. But after working all day with the director and trying to think of realistic defense tactics for the writer you picked, I was spent, sir. I was just about ready to call it quits when you came into the dressing room. Things got out of hand and I believe we can have this conversation in a more civilized manner.” 

 

The senator glared down at him from across the long table. “There’s no room for discussion, Captain. You said plenty yesterday. And if you and Mr. Barnes don’t get out of my building, I will have him arrested on sodomy charges. You should tread carefully, Captain.” 

 

“I don’t think you will.” Steve sat back in his chair with a cocky smirk. “See, the thing is. If you arrest  _ Sergeant  _ Barnes, then you’ll have to arrest me.” Senator Brandt’s face twisted in disgust at Steve’s admission. “That wouldn’t look too good in the papers, now would it? Especially since it’s illegal to discuss homosexual activity in public. It’d be a big mess and you know who would suffer? The country. Who would listen to all your Captain America propaganda when said Captain’s in prison?” 

 

The senator crossed his arms and scowled, but he didn’t say a word. “Now, if you’d like,” Steve continued, “I could have my good friend Private Morita,” he waved towards the man, “call up the papers himself. He’ll tell them all how you hired a homosexual to be the face of our great nation. You don’t want that, do you?” When the senator said nothing, Steve glanced up at Bucky. The sergeant shrugged and Steve nodded. He spun his chair and gave Morita the signal. “Go ahead, private.”

 

Morita hesitated, but called up the operator anyway. “ _ Daily Bugle _ , please.” There was a beat of silence as the group of men waited for the operator to connect him to the paper. Morita took a deep breath and nodded once he was connected. “Hello, I’d like to leave an anonymous-”

 

“Wait!” the senator bellowed frantically. “Let’s discuss this before we make any rash decisions.” Morita hung up the phone and stood at ease, a small smirk teasing his lips. “What do you propose shall happen, Steven?”

 

Steve gave the senator a grateful smile and leaned forward, his hands clasped together on the table. “I think my time as Captain America is up. I’ll keep the title and keep working overseas. But I refuse to do anymore promotional gimmicks like radio shows and movie deals. Whatever you have is done, use it wisely. You already have some footage from that documentary you tried to do before, use that instead of filming us this next week. I’m done being paraded around the country. Use my name, my image, whatever. But I’m not doing this anymore. My team and I will return to the front and keep fighting until the war’s over. Then I’ll return to New York, hang up my shield, and Captain America can peacefully dissolve in the minds of children.” 

 

“And what do I get in return?”

 

“Bond sales. All you have to do is keep your mouth shut and forget this all happened. Understood?” Steve took a deep breath, his hands shaking slightly. His anxiety was starting to get the best of him, the illusion of this being just another mission disappearing with every second that ticked by. 

 

The senator stood slowly, his hand out stretched. “You have a deal. But this stays in this room.” 

 

Steve let out a breath of relief and stood to reach for the man’s hand, clasping it tightly in his own. “Yes sir. I believe we’re done here. Sorry for interrupting your meeting, sir. Have a pleasant day,” Steve rushed out. He nodded for the soldiers to leave the room, moving quickly to escape the impromptu meeting before Brandt could go back on his word. 

 

Back at the apartment, Steve disappeared into the bedroom without a word. He collapsed onto the bed, hands trembling and breaths coming in gasps as his anxiety got the best of him. His head pounded, thoughts of all the things that could have possibly happened clouding his thoughts. 

 

‘ _ God, Steve. You should have been more careful. They’re going to see just how weak you are, running off like a scolded child. This is pathetic. Get your act together and go out there, be the captain they expect you to be _ ,’ his brain offered. 

 

But he couldn’t. His body stayed frozen on his bed, curled in on himself. 

 

“Is he okay?” Gabe asked, pointing towards the closed bedroom door. 

 

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ll be right back. Make yourselves comfortable.” Bucky slipped out the room, trying his best to keep from overreacting. 

 

He knocked once on the door and cracked it open, stepping inside quietly. “Stevie, you okay?” he whispered into the dim room. 

 

Steve curled in on himself even further, hiding his face under his arms. There was no way he could let Bucky see him like this. ‘ _ He’ll know just how pathetic you really are. Then you’ll really lose him. _ ’ 

 

“Stevie? What’s going on?” Bucky knelt beside him on the bed, his boots hanging off. He reached out for the blond, who only flinched and curled further inward. Bucky’s brows furrowed and his teeth sank into his bottom lip. “You’re killin’ me here, sweetie. What’s going on? You barely spoke in the car and you’re not lettin’ me touch you? Did I do somethin’?” He tried to touch Steve again, his fingers brushing the blue material of his uniform.

 

The captain jumped off the bed and across the room, hands covering his face as he struggled to breath. ‘ _ Goddamn, Rogers. Man the fuck up! _ ’ He was shaking and his eyes were watering, closer and closer to breaking with every gasping breath. His chest was killing him, a heavy weight that just pushed further and further. His stomach bubbled with anxiety, the need to be sick almost overwhelming. 

 

“Steve?” Bucky spoke with a bit more force, his hands splayed outward in caution. “It’s just me. It’s Bucky. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” 

 

A sob ripped through Steve’s throat at the words. ‘ _ Look what you did. You’re scaring him. He probably thinks you’re gonna hurt him. You really are becoming a monster. _ ’  

 

Bucky carefully touched Steve’s shoulders, pulling him into his chest. “Stevie, what's wrong? What can I do? How can I help you? Babydoll, talk to me,” he pleaded. Steve only sobbed, his breathing even worse. Bucky let him go a little, enough to get a good look at his super soldier. “Are you. . . Are you having an asthma attack?” The panic in Bucky’s voice made Steve want to gag. ‘ _ How could you do this to him? You’re not fit to be a captain or a man. You doesn’t deserve him. You deserve to rot alone. You’re a sick, pathetic- _ ’ “Steve! Deep breaths, babydoll. Just like we used to,” Bucky demanded, pulling Steve’s hands from his face. He put both of his lover’s hands on his chest, taking a deep breath to demonstrate. “Breath with me, sugar. You can do this.” 

 

Steve did as he was told and took deep, long breaths in and out in time with Bucky. It took a minute, but his breathing eventually calmed down enough to speak. “It’s not asthma,” he offered weakly.

 

Bucky let out a breath of relief. “Good. I thought the serum took care of that for good. Was about to get real worried.” Bucky kissed Steve’s forehead and smiled, still a little concerned. “What’s going on, doll? What just happened? Talk to me.”

 

“I,” Steve stopped himself. He burrowed his head in Bucky’s neck, arms wrapping around his waist tightly. “I get like this sometimes. Real anxious. Can’t breath. It’s like an asthma attack, but different. It’s not that I can’t breath, it’s. . . It’s like I’m so worried about something else that I forget to breath. And then all I can think about is all sorts of negatives or whatever cause my anxiousness to begin with,” Steve whispered.

 

“Sugar, why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky kissed at Steve’s hair, holding him tight.

 

“It’s pathetic. I’m supposed to be the captain. I’m not supposed to be weak.” Steve cried, his body shaking with the effort to keep his sobs in. 

 

Bucky let out a sound of distress as he pulled Steve in as close as he could, the taller, bigger man tucked in as tight as he could in his lover’s arms. “Stevie, you know that ain’t true. You remember when we talked last month? How you said we all got issues? That applies to this too. I don’t know when this started. Don’t know what causes you to feel this way, but I do know you aren’t alone and you aren’t pathetic. I’d rather have a captain you understands what his soldiers are going through than some robot captain from a science fiction novel.” 

 

Steve let out a watery laugh, but didn’t say anything more. Bucky held him as he cried, humming in his ear to sooth his sobs. They stood there for a long while, holding one another as tight as they could. Bucky figured Steve had fallen asleep after a lapse of silence, ready to drag the soldier to bed and tuck him in. But then Steve lifted his head and gave the brunet a small, thankful smile. “Feel any better?” Bucky whispered, cupping the side of his boyfriend’s face.

 

With a small nod, Steve dragged Bucky towards the bed and sat down. He took Bucky’s hand in his and sighed. “It started when I got the Cap gig. I’d get like this in between shows and before signings or promotion stuff. Got pretty good at hiding it. I still get like this before and after some of the bigger missions, but,” Steve sighed again, “I always play it off like I’m doing last minute calculations or somethin’ important while I hide in my tent. S’why I don’t let you in sometimes.”

 

Bucky leaned forward and kissed Steve softly. “You don’t have to hide anything from me, Rogers. I’ve seen you at your absolute worse. Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ me from seein’ you the way I do. ‘Member that.” He kissed him again. “Now c’mon. We gotta go enjoy the company of our fellow soldiers before we go over to Ma’s for dinner. ‘S our last night here, let’s have fun, yeah?”

 

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Just gimme a minute? I’ll be right there.” 

 

“Anything for you doll,” Bucky whispered with another kiss to Steve’s forehead. He stood and made his way to the door before he turned back around with a big smile. “You know, I’m with you till the end of the line, right doll?” 

 

“Yeah,” Steve beamed, “yeah I do.” 

 

That night, surrounded by Bucky’s family and his Commandos, Steve felt the last of his anxiety slip away for the day. He knew it wasn’t gone forever, but it was nice to have some reprieve from the weight on his chest. 

 

Besides, everything was in place. Brandt wasn’t controlling him anymore, the Commandos know about him and Bucky so now they don’t have to sneak around, he’s at home in Brooklyn even if it is for just a night, and Bucky’s smiling at him from across the table with his boots locked around his tightly. There isn’t a place he’d rather be. 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

The winter was harsh on the Howling Commandos. They lost a good bit of their supplies in a blizzard in the Alps. Colonel Phillips wasn’t too happy about having to issue them another tent, but they made up for it by fixing the truck and their bikes themselves. (Dugan taught Bucky and Steve how to fix a car and then their motorbikes. He claims every man, city boy or not, should know how to fix a vehicle of any shape and size.) And they had to wear several layers to sleep in to fight off the frostbite (Bucky and Steve refused to, though. Steve was warm enough without several layers of gear, so Bucky just put a ton of blankets over themselves).  

 

But Steve could care less about the winter or the cold. Because it was Christmas and that made him beyond happy. 

 

He woke up just before dawn, when the sky was still dark and just a dust of pink was peeking out from around the treetops. He rekindled the fire and grabbed a few more pieces of firewood out the truck. Steve started breakfast like Morita had showed him and started a pot of boiling water for the hot chocolate Peggy had sent them. 

 

Of course, he’d waited until Christmas to tell the Commandos about the hot chocolate. He figured it was a special treat they deserved, especially after the year they had. 

 

Steve grabbed his trunk out of his tent quietly, careful not to disturb Bucky who still slept peacefully in their cot. He carried it out by the fire, a big grin on his face. He settled onto the makeshift bench they’d made out of a log they’d found and waited, hands splayed out in front of him to warm up his fingers. 

 

Bucky stumbled out of the tent, rubbing his eyes as he tugged a blanket around his shoulders. “You’re up early,” he mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. 

 

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep.” Steve shrugged and opened his arms for Bucky to curl up against him. The brunet smiled softly and marched over to the fire, the snow crunching under his boots. 

 

“You never sleep on Christmas,” Bucky murmured as he sat practically on Steve’s lap. He kissed him softly, a gloved hand cupping Steve’s cheek. 

 

Steve shrugged and smiled into the kiss. “What can I say? It’s my favorite holiday.”

 

Bucky chuckled as he rested his head against Steve’s shoulder. He tugged the blanket around him, the lapels of his peacoat peeking out. “I figured it’d be the Fourth.”

 

“Ha ha, very funny.” Steve rolled his eyes. 

 

“Hush, now. I sleep.” Bucky snuggled into Steve’s arms, already starting to doze off again. 

 

Dugan stumbled out of the tent, rubbing his hands as fast as he could. “Good lord it’s cold out here.” Steve’s smile didn’t falter as Dum Dum made his way over to the fire. “Mornin’ lovebirds. Sleep well? Or at all?” 

 

Bucky groaned, shuffling to pull out his hand to flick off Dugan. “We slept just fine, thank you. Stevie kept the bed nice and toasty, barely felt the cold. What about you? D’you freeze your ass off?” 

 

“You’re an asshole, Sarge.” Dugan shook his head and pulled out his cigarette pack. He plucked one out of the tin and leaned forward to lit it on the fire. “Should we wake the others up or let ‘em sleep since it’s Christmas?” 

 

Steve shook his head. “Let ‘em sleep. Phillips said we could stay put for the day, or we could leave. S’up to us, really. Figured we’d take our time this morning, then pack it up and move on, maybe get out of this cold.” 

 

“Sounds good to me,” Gabe announced as he shuffled over to the fire. 

 

One by one the Commandos made their way to the fire, hands hovering over the open flame. Morita was the last to settle down on the log benches, a frown plastered on his face. “It’s fucking Christmas and no goddamn coffee? The fuck is this? I should be waking up to the smell of coffee brewing, even if it’s that watered down shit they give us.”   
  


“Someone’s rather grumpy this morning,” Falsworth mumbled to Dugan. 

 

Steve chuckled and untangled himself from Bucky’s limbs. He grabbed the mugs and a spare ladle they usually use for the coffee. “Well,” he started, “I have something better. Agent Carter snuck this in for us.” He lifted the lid on the cocoa and the smell of chocolate swarmed the air. 

 

“No way! Cocoa?” Bucky gasped, his face lit up in childlike wonder. Steve beamed, already scooping the hot liquid into the mugs. 

 

“ _ L'agent Carter est un rêve! Comment a-t-elle glissé ça dans nos fournitures _ ?” Dernier asked after a long sip from his mug.

 

Steve laughed and sipped from his own mug as he replaced the lid on the cocoa. “ _ Elle l'a mis dans ma malle personnelle. Elle m'a aussi donné plus ... des surprises _ .” 

 

“I heard surprises. What surprises are we discussing?” Dugan pointed a finger between Steve and Dernier with a playful glare and a raised eyebrow. 

 

“Agent Carter put the cocoa and a few more surprises in my things,” Steve explained. He reached over and pulled the trunk closer to him, a smirk lacing it’s way on his plump lips. 

 

Morita looked around. “So, you’re going to tell us, right?” 

 

Steve shook his head and smiled. “Nope. I figured it was too cold, best head out yeah know?”

 

The Commandos shared a few looks, some unconvinced and some a little annoyed. Then they all looked to Bucky, who’s smile grew slowly like a mischievous cat ready to pounce on it’s prey. “Stevie,” he started, real slow like with his voice as deep and soft as he could make it. Bucky leaned forward so he could look up at him from beneath his eyelashes (although, Bucky had to admit Steve always looked better like this because his lashes were so long and beautiful and somehow he could maintain that look of innocence no matter what he was doing). “You wouldn’t make us wait, would you?” 

 

“That’s not going to work, Buck.” Steve smirked and crossed his arms, leaning on the trunk. 

 

Bucky nodded, his lips pursed. “Okay. If you say so.” A chorus of disbelief and annoyance echoed against the trees as Bucky turned back to the fire, cradling the mug in his hands. “I suppose he’s right. You know what they say, the Captain know’s best.” Bucky took a long sip from his mug, neck stretched out just a bit and his skin on full display for Steve. It took everything in him not to react, to reach forward and kiss and nibble at that sweet expanse of skin.

 

Bucky brought the mug down, leaving a line of cocoa along his lips. His eyes flickered to Steve’s, a flash of mischief glazed over the stormy blues as they locked onto Steve’s. As if in slow motion his tongue poked out, all bright red and pink, and licked his lips, cleaning all of the cocoa from his face.

 

“Goddammit,” Steve cursed, turning away from Bucky. “You’re a cheat, Barnes.”

 

Bucky cackled loud enough that a few birds flew from the treetops. “I did nothing but agree with you. I have no idea what you’re talking about, Rogers.” 

 

Steve rolled his eyes and flicked open the trunk. “I suppose, since you all insist, I can go ahead and give this to you guys.” 

 

And then Steve started to pull out parcel after parcel, handing them all to the respective Commando. 

 

“What’s all this?” Falsworth asked, holding the two parcels he was given. 

 

Steve grabbed the last two and beamed. “They’re packages from your families, and Peggy. She gave them to me last week when we were at the base. Figured since we were close to Christmas and we’ve had a pretty rough year,” he gave a shy smile, “you guys might want something to open on Christmas morning.” 

 

Everyone had paused, parcels in their laps and hands stilled from where they rested near the flaps. Their faces were a mixture of awe and pure joy as Steve’s speech sunk in. 

 

“Holy shit,” Bucky mumbled, his mouth wide open. “Stevie, did you really just give us Christmas? In the middle of a war?” 

 

Steve blushed with a blinding smile. “It was really Peggy-”

 

Bucky surged forward, one hand holding the parcels carefully, and brought Steve’s head down for a rough, loving kiss. “You’re something else, punk,” Bucky whispered in between a series of chaste kisses. 

 

Steve giggled, his head falling to Bucky’s shoulder. “Thanks I guess?”

 

“Why are you thanking him? You’re the one who gave us Christmas!” Morita laughed.

 

Falsworth raised his mug. “To Santa Steve!” 

 

The rest of the Commandos snatched their mugs up and cheered, “To Santa Steve!” 

 

With a roll of his eyes, Steve grabbed his own mug and tapped it against the rest of the mugs over the open fire. “Merry Christmas, fellas.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Captain.” Gabe grinned, already opening his packages. 

 

“ _ Joyeux Noël, Capitaine! _ ” Dernier announced. 

 

With that, everyone began to open their parcels, the laughter and banter coming to a halt. They took their time, cherishing each item no matter what it was (extra socks, a letter, a new toothbrush, etc.) and grinning like dopes. 

 

They may not have been at home, nestled in their favorite pajamas with a heap of blankets and an actual roof over their heads. They may not have been surrounded by family or had a big Christmas dinner waiting for them in the kitchen. They may not have had presents to give to one another or even had the luxury of time off to buy presents to begin with. None of that mattered, because they were together. They were safe (for now). They were healthy. And they were alive. 

  
And they couldn’t be happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> lance le feu - start the fire
> 
> Je remercie le Seigneur! - Thank the lord.
> 
> Qui sommes-nous? Les Barnes ou Rogers? - Who are we visiting? The Barnes or Rogers?
> 
> Les Barnes. Ma mère a passé huit ans. Je suis le seul Roger qui est parti. Les Barnes sont une famille merveilleuse; Ils m'ont tout simplement emmené - The Barnes. My mother passed eight years ago. I'm the only Roger left. The Barnes are a wonderful family; they've basically taken me in.
> 
> Pourtant, ils peuvent se permettre de faire un film sur Captain America? - Yet, they can afford to make a movie about Captain America?
> 
> C'est une très bonne question. - That's a good question.
> 
> Dernier et Gabe, vous avez les autres membres du conseil hors de la salle. Assurez-vous que les portes sont verrouillées derrière eux et gardez-les. - Dernier and Gabe, you two get the other council members out of the room. Make sure the doors are locked behind them and guard them.
> 
> L'agent Carter est un rêve! Comment a-t-elle glissé ça dans nos fournitures? - Agent Carter is a dream! How did she sneak this in our supplies?
> 
> Elle l'a mis dans ma malle personnelle. Elle m'a aussi donné plus ... des surprises. - She put it in my personal trunk. She also gave me a more... surprises.
> 
> Joyeux Noël, Capitaine! - Merry Christmas, Captain!
> 
> \-----
> 
> Remember to follow us on tumblr for sneak peeks at the chapters! We post them in the form of one-shots taken directly from the chapter. Posts are up Mondays thru Fridays! Check us out: https://thesteveandbuckystory.tumblr.com/


	19. 1945

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it guys, the final chapter!! It's a little angsty (read: really angsty) and there are very few sweet moments. And like always, this is unedited! Read on carefully, my friends!

_ Chapter Seventeen _

  
  


**1945**

 

The fire was blazing in the makeshift fire pit Gabe had dug out. It was freezing out, the snow falling around them delicately. The Commandos were huddled around the fire, exhausted from the day's work and shivering from the cold. Bucky sat opposite of Steve, hugging himself as he glared at the blond. “I don’t know what you were thinking,” he started calmly, shattering the peaceful silence around them.

 

Steve sighed and rubbed his hands over his face before they went back to hovering over the fire. “I did what I thought was right.” 

 

Bucky scoffed. “Steve, I’ve known you since you were six. I know when you get on your self-righteous trips and that wasn’t one of them.” 

 

“It was instinct,” Steve defended.

 

“It was stupid.” 

 

“What else was I supposed to do?”

 

“Um, how about  _ not jumping off a building _ !” Bucky’s voice grew with every syllable, his eyebrows raised, his eyes wide, and his lips pursed. “That would be the smartest option.” 

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “It was that or get shot. It made the most sense at the time! ‘Sides, I’m perfectly fine!” 

 

“But there’s a chance you could have seriously hurt yourself, Steven.” 

 

“And there was a chance I could have survived. Which, if you didn’t notice, I did.” 

 

Bucky pointed at Steve from across the fire, the flames lighting his face in an ominous tone as he leaned forward a little more. “You ever die, Rogers, and I will kill you three times over. Do you understand me?” 

 

Steve couldn’t help the fond smile that teased his lips. “Yes sir.” He gave a small salute as Bucky rolled his eyes. “I will put serious consideration for your well being the next time a life or death situation occurs, okay?”

 

“Good. And if you do decide to do something stupid again, don’t think I’ll hesitate to kicking your ass into next week,” Bucky declared with a pointed nod. 

 

“Are we done, fellas?” Falsworth asked with a bored, yet amused expression. 

 

Steve grinned at Bucky, the latter still pouting. “I think so.”

 

An easy silence fell on the Commandos, eyes attracted to the flirting flames in front of them. Dugan plucked his cigarette box out of his pocket, passing it around the circle. Everyone but Steve grabbed one, lighting them on the fire and taking a long drag. “Cap, how come you don’t smoke?”

 

Steve shrugged. “Never could. Just feels weird now. ‘Sides, it probably doesn’t have an affect on me anymore.”

 

“Like alcohol?” Bucky asked, curious. Steve nodded with a shrug. 

 

Morita cleared his throat, “But you don’t, you know, care if  _ we  _ drink right?” 

 

“No,” Steve chuckled, “I really don’t mind.” 

 

With that, Morita ventured off into his tent, returning with a bottle of liquor. A few minutes later, the rest of the Commandos were starting to loosen up (besides Bucky, who hadn’t actually taken a sip when he was handed the bottle) and their conversations grew louder. 

 

“You boys ever wonder what you’ll do after all this is over?” Dugan asked, focused on his hat that he was twirling on his finger. 

 

Gabe nodded. “I want to find a nice girl and have a couple of kids before it’s too late.” He turned to Dernier, who was speaking rapid French in a mumbled slur, the alcohol already taking effect. “He just wants to see his family again.” 

 

“I just want my parents alive,” Morita mumbled. Steve rested his hand on the man’s shoulder, squeezing once. 

 

“It would be nice to settle down in a nice village on the outskirts of Manchester,” Falsworth sighed. 

 

Dugan looked between Bucky and Steve, his brow knitted in piqued interest. “Loverboys? What’re your plans?”

 

Steve glanced up at Bucky, his head tilted down and his cheeks dusting with a blush. “We haven’t talked about it,” he replied with a sad smile, eyes still locked on Bucky’s.

 

“Are you two going to stay together? Or are you gonna split up and find some dames to marry? Have a coupla kids?” Dugan questioned.

 

Bucky folded in on himself, a dark expression shadowing his features. “Can we not talk about this? I’m not drunk enough for this conversation.” Morita passed him the bottle with a tight smile.

 

The blond blushed and stumbled over his words, “I’d want to get married one day, have a child or something like that. But I’m not completely sure. Still trying to figure everything out.” Steve shrugged, a touch of anxiety bubbling in his chest. 

 

“It’s your turn, Barnes. It’s a simple question. You want kids or not?” Dugan pushed.

 

“C’mon, answer the question!” Morita encouraged. 

 

“We’re all friends here. You can trust us.” Falsworth grinned at him.

 

“Oh yeah,” Bucky spat, “it’s such a simple question. Of course, I want kids. I’ve wanted kids since Daisy was born. I’ve wanted to start a family for years. But it’s either start a family or stay with Steve. I don’t have the luxury of having both, not the way I want to at least.” Bucky stood up and stomped off towards the treeline, cigarette dangling from his lips. 

 

Steve’s head fell as he curled in on himself, his body tight and tense. “Is he okay?” Gabe asked quietly, glancing back and forth between the lovers. 

 

The captain shot up, tense and awkward. “I’ll go check on him.” He followed after the brunet, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. “Buck?” He called cautiously, slowing his pace as he neared the sergeant. 

 

Bucky leaned against a tree, taking a drag from his cigarette. “What, Steve?” 

 

“Are you okay?” Steve stuffed his hands in his pockets, keeping his distance. They may be close, but Steve knows they still need their space when they’re upset like this. 

 

A sharp, sarcastic laugh echoed off the trees. “No, I’m not.” 

 

“Want to talk about it?” 

 

“Not really. I’d rather be blissfully ignorant on the subject. Just put it in the back of my mind and forget about it. Okay?” Bucky glanced over his shoulder. 

 

Steve started to nod before he shook his head, determination settling into his worried expression. “No. We’re not blowing this off. We always blow off the stuff that needs to be discussed. I won’t let you bury this away.” Steve moved so he was facing Bucky, arms crossed and his eyes soft. “Bucky, what do you think we should do?” 

 

Bucky glared at Steve, his eyes wet. “I don’t know, Steve! Everything seems like a bad idea, like it’s the wrong choice. I don’t want to spend my life married to some dame and having sex once every six months because I can’t stand the idea of having anyone else touch me ‘cept you! But I know if we never get married to dames or start our own families that people are gonna get suspicious. They’re going to ask questions. And if they ever find out that not only do we live together, but we share a bed? They’ll skin us alive, Steve!” Bucky sniffled, wiping at his eyes with the back of his free hand. “I can’t lose you, Stevie. I just can’t.”

 

“Buck, baby,” Steve cooed as he caressed Bucky’s cheek. “You won’t lose me. I’d still be around. Hell, we can live across from each other. Be it a hall or a street. We can have dinner twice a week and our kids will be the best of friends. And- and we can work together! Find us a good job that could use a super soldier and his hard working sergeant. We’d be together constantly,” Steve troed.

 

“But we wouldn’t be together. It wouldn’t be the same. Don’t you get that?” Bucky fell into Steve’s arms, his cigarette snuffed out against the tree. 

 

Steve whimpered, pulling Bucky closer to him. “I do, Buck. I really do. But like you said, we can’t stay together forever. Not like we are, at least.-”

 

Bucky pulled back, his eyes disbelieving. “You’re not a cheater, Steve. And I’m not about to make you one.” 

 

“I won’t be cheating,” Steve offered weakly. 

 

“You and I both know you’re lying.” 

 

“We did it.” 

 

“But we had discussed it. We both knew we had to date around for appearance sake. It was a conclusion we came up with together. We can’t do that to whoever we marry. You know that.” 

 

Steve didn’t say anything, just buried his face in Bucky’s hair. “I just wish I could marry you. I don’t have to have kids. I don’t even have to get married. That stuff is all fairy tales anyway. I just want you.” 

 

There was a rustle in the trees behind Bucky, coming from the direction their camp was in. Steve looked up to see a bashful Gabe rubbing his neck. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything. I, uh, have to take a leak.” Steve nodded, his own face heating up. “Can I, um, offer some advice?” 

 

Bucky pulled away, not even bothering to wipe his eyes as he sniffled. “You can try.” 

 

Gabe gave them a weak smile. “My granddad always said that marriage was more than a piece of paper. Used to say it was a state of mind, that both partners had to be committed and willing for the marriage to work.” Gabe took a deep breath and continued, “You know, his parents never got married? He and my grandma were one of the first to get legally married according to the law. Instead of getting a slip of paper, they held a ceremony and decided they would be married because they said so. It worked for them,” he shrugged. “It’s just an idea.” 

 

Steve glanced at Bucky. Bucky looked up at Steve, still sniffling and his bottom lip jutted out just enough that Steve wanted nothing more than to kiss it. Gabe walked off, venturing further into the woods and leaving the soldiers behind. 

 

Bucky watched as a twinkle returned to Steve’s eyes, a sliver of hope that lite up his entire being. ‘ _ Doesn’t solve the wives and children thing _ ,’ he mentally argued. ‘ _ But on the other hand you can say Steve’s your husband, even if it’s not legal. _ ’ Bucky bit his lip. ‘ _ Yeah, but we can’t just keep going like this. Someone will surely find out. Then we really will be arrested for sodomy charges. _ ’ He tilted his head to the side, still staring at Steve’s hopeful blue eyes. ‘ _ I just don’t know if I could live with myself if I cheated on a broad for a sham marriage and still see Steve. _ ’

 

“What are you thinking, Buck?” Steve asked softly, fingertips grazing my hip. 

 

“It’s tempting,” Bucky hesitantly admitted, “but I’m not sure if this is the right thing to do. We still have all the problems we were facing three minutes ago, you realize that right? This isn’t the answer to our prayers, Stevie. This is just a way for us to feel like we can be just like everyone else.” He ran a hand through his hair and looked away. “Not to mention it’s risky as hell.” 

 

Steve deflated a little. “I know it is, Buck. But  _ you’re _ worth it.  _ We’re _ worth it!” He took Bucky’s hands in his, his eyes pleading with him. Steve shook his head, a resignation Bucky was familiar falling on his face. “Can you, can you just think about it?” he whispered softly, head ducked and his bottom lip jutted out in a small pout. ‘ _ He probably doesn’t even realize he’s pouting. Or how cute he looks like this _ ,’ Bucky thought. 

 

Bucky nodded and pulled Steve in tight. “I’ll think it over. Promise.” He kissed Steve’s temple, his eyes fluttering closed. 

 

Another series of rustling signaled Gabe’s return. “You guys live in a queer neighborhood right? Like you know other queers and such, right?” 

 

Steve pulled away enough to look up at the man, Bucky still pressed close against him. “Pretty much. Either they’re queer or they keep their mouths shut.”

 

Gabe nodded and turned away from them, facing the camp. “It’d be pretty cool if you found a couple of dames in the same predicament, wouldn’t it? Coupla girls who just want to love their partner but can’t because the world’s an awful place to people who are different? I bet you they’d be pretty understanding. Don’t you think?”

 

Bucky smiled into Steve’s shoulder. He felt Steve nod and mumble a distant, “Yeah, that would be something.” 

 

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it.” Bucky didn’t have to look up to know Gabe was retreating back to the camp. And he knew Gabe didn’t have to look back to know the couple were retreating to their heads, their brains rumbling to life with ideas. 

 

The next morning, the soldiers were traveling through a bustling Italian village. They stopped for an hour, enough time to take a breather and grab some lunch. Bucky and Steve split off from the group and wandered into the a few shops the village had. 

 

Steve stopped at a little boutique filled with handmade pots and pans, vases, paintings, statues, and jewelry. “These are incredible,” Steve whispered as he gazed up at a scenic piece. 

 

“You could do these blindfolded, babydoll,” Bucky whispered as he passed him. Steve rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. Bucky walked over to a case of jewelry, running his fingertips over the glass. 

 

A plump older woman walked over to him with an inquiring smile. She started to speak fast Italian, pointing at random rings and necklaces. Bucky was flustered, stumbling over his words. “I, uh, don’t speak Italian,” he told her softly.

 

She nodded with a fond smile. “Ah, you are American soldier.” Bucky nodded awkwardly. “You see something you like?” Bucky’s eyes flickered towards a set of golden wedding bands, both thin rings that aren't perfectly shaped and most definitely handmade. The woman noticed, her smile growing. “What’s her name?” 

 

Bucky coughed awkwardly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Steve was preoccupied. “Gracie,” he cleared his throat, “her name is Gracie.” 

 

“Pretty name,” the woman said softly. “Are you getting married?”

 

Bucky gave a breathless laugh and nodded. “I think we are.” 

 

The woman grinned and took the rings out. “Do you know sizes?” Bucky shook his head and bit his lip. “It’s okay. We can think of something.” Bucky looked to his hands and grabbed one of the rings from her wrinkled hand. 

 

He slipped it onto his ring finger with a bit of a struggle, but it went on (and came off) nonetheless. “Do you have two of these?” 

 

“Why? Does she have big hands?” The woman smirked, handing over a second ring of the same size. 

 

Bucky chuckled. “You can say that.” He flipped the rings over and over again in his palm, watching as the light hit them a certain way and a twinkle hit his eye. “I’ll take them,” he mumbled, already reaching for the clip of money he keeps in the inside pocket of his peacoat. 

 

“Buck,” Steve called, “we need to leave.” 

 

“Gimme a minute. I’ll meet you there.” Bucky called, waving him off without a second glance. He handed the woman a few notes and the rings back with a lopsided smile. 

 

She quickly slipped the rings into a box and handed him back half the money. Bucky tried to protest but she merely shook her head. “You just go marry that girl and win this war. I can’t live in fear anymore,” she admitted softly. 

 

Bucky nodded, the ring box clasped in his fist. “Yes ma’am.” He gave her a sharp salute and bolted out the door, rushing to meet up with the Commandos. 

 

That night the Commandos camped out in a forest on the outskirts of France. They settled in for an early night in their own respective tents. “I really hope the snow doesn’t get too bad during the night,” Steve mumbled as he closed their tent. 

 

“It’s the middle of January, who knows how bad it’ll get.” Bucky loosened his boots, but didn’t slip them off. Steve, on the other hand, stripped out of his uniform, leaving him in nothing but his undershirt and a pair of long underwear. Bucky curled up in bed, doing his best to keep the chattering of his teeth down to a low hum. “I’m cold,” he whined as he opened his arms for Steve to curl into. 

 

Steve rolled his eyes and settled in beside him. “Is this what you felt like all those winters? Only wanted for warmth?” 

 

Bucky giggled, his face pressed against Steve’s chest. “And sex. You wanted me for sex and warmth. Admit it Rogers.” 

 

A low chuckle vibrated through Steve’s chest. “Alright, you caught me.” He dropped a kiss to Bucky’s head, then another one, and another one. “You can’t hog the blankets, you know that right?” 

 

“I’ll do whatever I please, thank you very much.”

 

Steve groaned. “You’re such a brat.” 

 

“You love me,” Bucky smirked.

 

“I do,” Steve said fondly.

 

Bucky bit his lip and sat up on his elbows, hovering over Steve. “Speaking of ‘I do,’” he whispered. 

 

Steve’s eyes widened. “You thought about it?”

 

“I have.” Bucky’s voice was breathless, filled with adoration for the man beneath him. “What do you say, Stevie? Will you marry me, punk? Make me your husband till death do us part?” 

 

A wet happy noise escaped Steve’s throat as the man nodded. “Abso-fucking-lutely,” he choked out before he crashed their lips together. Bucky laughed, his own cheeks a little wet from his own tears. “God, I love you so much,” Steve cried softly. 

 

“I love you, too, Stevie. You have no clue just how much I love you.” Bucky smiled into the kiss, their lips chasing one another between words. 

 

“My future husband,” Steve laughed. Bucky nodded, his hands finding their way into Steve’s golden hair. “You still cold?”

 

Bucky pulled away, his laugh wavering from the cold that had seeped into his bones and the tears that freely fell. “Steve, it’s fucking freezing outside. ‘Course I’m still cold. Not all of us are super soldiers who barely feel the cold.”

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “I feel the cold. I sleep in full uniform when you’re not here. But two bodies and double the blankets, with or without the uniform it gets a bit toasty in here.” He pulled Bucky down further, kissing up his stubbly jaw. “But, I was going to suggest,” he made his way to Bucky’s ear and tugged at his earlobe, “warming you up a different way.”

 

“What’s stopping you?” 

 

When the Commandos gathered around the fire the next morning, everyone but Steve had a scowl a mile deep plastered on their faces. “What’s wrong with everyone?”

 

“Other than the fact you and Sarge kept us up till dawn?” Morita grumbled, “We’re freezing and tired. What’d ya expect?” 

 

Steve blushed, ducking his head into Bucky’s shoulder as the latter chuckled softly. “Sorry about that, fellas. We had some celebratin’ to do.”

 

“Celebrating?” Gabe raised an eyebrow with a knowing smirk. 

 

“Yeah,” Bucky took Steve’s hand, “celebrating.” 

 

“Did you do it?” Gabe crossed his arms. Bucky nodded, his smile growing with each second. Gabe grinned wickedly, his own eyes sparkling with happiness. “I’m real happy for you guys. You deserve it.” 

 

Dum Dum looked between the three. “What happened? What do they deserve? Fill us in here, Captain,” he practically whined.

 

Steve lifted his head from Bucky’s shoulder and mumbled, “Buck asked me to marry him.”

 

“Marry? As in marriage?” Falsworth gasped. Steve nodded, his face as bright a red as his uniform. “How are you two going to do that?”

 

Gabe cleared his throat. “We’ll give them a symbolic wedding and it’ll be the same thing, minus the legal paperwork.” 

 

There was a beat of silence as the information soaked in. Then, all at once, the other Commandos burst into cheers and howls of congratulations. “Our little Buckster’s gettin’ married, fellas!” Dugan boomed, an arm hooked around Bucky’s neck. 

 

“ _ Félicitations pour votre engagement, capitaine! _ ” Dernier cheered. 

 

Steve and Bucky both blushed, awkwardly laughing as their friends celebrated. “Will you forgive us for the late night?” Steve wondered, his puppy eyes on full volume. 

 

Morita glared at him, “Not like we can say no when you pull that card.” 

 

Bucky clapped his hands and pointed to Morita, “Exactly! He knows how much power he carries in that face of his.” Bucky shook his head, a look of disdain and adoration on his face. 

 

Steve shrugged, dropping the look. “Hey, if it works.” He checked his watch and sighed. “Looks like we gotta roll out, men. Let’s pack it up.” 

 

They ventured off towards the base Phillips had set up in the French countryside. Steve, Gabe, Dernier, and Morita were guiding the truck that Dugan was driving on their bikes, Bucky and Falsworth settled in the back with the cargo. “So,” Gabe yelled over the wind as he pulled up next to the captain, “how long before you guys want to do this ceremony?” 

 

It took Steve a second to figure out what he was talking about, his smile growing in slow motion. “I’m not sure. We didn’t do a lot of talking last night,” he called back with a smirk.”

 

“You disgust me, Rogers,” Gabe laughed.

 

Steve shrugged. “You asked.” The rode in silence for a few more feet. “If I’m honest, we’ll probably stop in the next few days. See if we can’t find ourselves a nice spot or even an abandoned church or something.” 

 

Gabe nodded, letting up on the gas to fall back behind the captain. “I’ll be on the lookout then!” 

 

Sure enough, a few miles away from the base was an abandoned French village. Or what was left of it. Gabe signaled for the small caravan to stop, shutting down his bike and peeling himself off the seat. “Need to take a leak,” he announced. Gabe ducked off towards the rubble, not waiting for a response. 

 

Bucky jumped from the back, a gun slung over his shoulder. “God this place looks horrendous,” he breathed out as he gravitated closer to Steve. All around them were crumbled buildings and debris. Ash floated around, catching the breeze and floating from one building to another. What was left of buildings were bits of furniture and a crumbling foundation. 

 

If they looked really close, they could see the forgotten belongings of the residents. From pictures to children’s toys, tucked beneath pounds of stone and brick. 

 

“ _ Je déteste ça _ ,” Dernier grumbled, already tearing up a little. It was if the world around them was silent, their surroundings built with an unsteady tension. It felt like a single breath would bring the rest of the buildings down in an avalanche of stone and brick. They stayed still and quiet, their own guilt wrapping it’s gnarly hand tight around their throats. 

 

Gabe returned as quiet as the rest of them. Until he caught sight of a building on the far side of the road. “Hey Steve,” he called softly, “what’s that look like down there?” 

 

Steve’s brows furrowed but he followed Gabe down nonetheless. They walked carefully, making sure they didn’t step on any left over explosives or unsturdy stones. “Gabe,” Steve said in exasperation.

 

“Hey, I said I’d be on the lookout.” He stopped in front of a small chapel, partially destroyed by whatever had caused the wreckage in the first place. 

 

Steve rolled his eyes and grinned, excitement filling his veins. “Buck, c’mere!” Bucky perked up from his conversation with Dugan, a little confused as to why Steve wanted him to look at debris, but obedient. Of course, the other Commandos followed the sergeant’s lead to the small chapel where Steve and Gabe stood. Steve took Bucky’s hands and whispered, “Wanna get married?” 

 

Bucky looked around the fragile building with a giggle (he’s stopped trying to deny it. Steve makes him giggle, and vice versa). “Let’s do it.” 

 

With that, the Commandos moved pieces of debris out the way and tried their best to make the captain and his sergeant look their best. Hell, they even dug out their proper fatigues to make the occasion a bit more special. (And Steve didn’t want Bucky to marry Captain America, he wanted Bucky to marry Steve.) 

 

Falsworth was the officiant, Dugan and Morita were standing behind Bucky, and Gabe and Dernier behind Steve. “Are we ready?” Falsworth asked. 

 

“Yeah, I think so,” Bucky shakily replied. He stood there, facing Steve and already tearing up. 

 

Falsworth cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to,” he glanced to Gabe with wide eyes.

 

“Celebrate the union,” Gabe supplied.

 

“Right, to celebrate the union of Captain Steven Grant Rogers and Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Blah, blah, blah, let’s hear the vows. Captain, would you like to say your own or would you like to do the standard vows?” 

 

Steve blushed bright red, the pink tint spreading from the tips of his ears to his chest. “I’ll say my own, if you don’t mind.” 

 

Bucky groaned, covering his face with one hand but never taking the smile off his face. “You’re either gonna make this sappy or embarrass me.”

 

“How ‘bout both?” Steve laughed and took Bucky’s hands. He cleared his throat and took a deep, shaky breath before he started, “Buck, I’d like to thank you for being there for me when I needed you most. You were always there, from that time you got into a fight with - what was his name-”

 

“Could be anyone in Brooklyn, Steve. I’ve gotten into a lot of fights for you,” Bucky interjected. 

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Shut up, this is my turn to talk jerk. It was Paul, that kid that was in your second grade class? He tried to push me around ‘cause I was too small to play with the other kids and you swooped in to save the day. God, you swooped in a lot.” He shook his head, a soft chuckle barely heard. “You never cared about getting sick or some disease like the other kids. You didn’t care how it made you look when we hung out or you had to leave to take care of me. You didn’t care if I couldn’t run as fast as the other kids or if I was terrible at baseball.”

 

“I bet you aren’t now,” Bucky offered.

 

“Probably not. We’ll have to test out this theory whenever the war’s over, yeah?” Bucky nodded. He motioned for Steve to continue, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. “I always feared for the day you’d figure out that I wasn’t good enough to be your best friend. I’d wake up in cold sweats because I was so fucking scared of losing you, Buck. 

 

“Ma, she would come in some nights to make sure I was okay whenever I didn’t stay at yours or you weren’t around. She would sit beside me and run her fingers through my hair, calm me down from whatever nightmare I had and she would always say something along the lines of ‘Bucky’s not going anywhere. It may not seem like it right now, but he needs you as much as you need him. You two are meant to be friends for as long as you live. Don’t ever doubt it.’” Steve chuckled a little, shaking his head. “Sometimes, I wonder if she actually knew about us before we did.”

 

“Wouldn’t surprise me.”

 

“I’m just glad you proved the world wrong. That you didn’t let anyone tell you how you were supposed to think or act. You showed me to be my own person and I think that’s when I started to fall for you. I mean,” he cleared his throat again, “I don’t really know when things changed for me. I just know that one day I was looking at you from across the courtyard and thought ‘God, I love him,’ and I just knew. I didn’t even care if it wasn’t right, ‘cause it didn’t matter to me. I just needed you. That’s all I ever needed, was you.

 

“Ma used to joke about you being her lucky charm. I’d be sick as a dog all day, but the second you came burstin’ through the door with your books and mine, it was like I wasn’t sick at all. You always knew when I was too tired to do something or it took too much effort to breathe. You could always tell when I was trying to do too much or whenever I was gearin’ up to fight some jackass. But you never tried to nag me into staying in bed, never tried to get me to steer the other way of a fight, never let me fall behind in class even though you were struggling. Hell, you were stupid enough to pretend to fail a math test just so you could graduate with me.” Steve was crying at this point, his throat thick with unshed tears. 

 

He cleared his throat and continued, “The thing that meant most to me, however, is the fact that you didn’t belittle me. That at my lowest times, be it coming home from a fight or when Ma passed, you treated me like every emotion I felt was perfect for that moment. So thank you.” 

 

Bucky laughed, watery and quiet. “Thanks for making me cry, punk,” he mumbled. Bucky shoved Steve a little, barely pushing him back. “How the hell am I supposed to go after you when you said all that?” The pink hue on Steve’s cheeks grew darker. 

 

“Not even sorry.” 

 

Bucky took a deep breath. “Alright punk, let’s see if I can’t top your vows.”

 

“Not everything’s a competition, Buck.” 

 

“Everything can be a competition, Steven. You just have to try harder.” He cleared his throat and started, “You have no idea how much shit I got for being friends with you. I’d like to say it was just when we were younger, but that’s not the case. Kids used to ask me if we were brothers or if our mas made us hang out. They used to get so offended when I said I was lucky enough that you wanted to be my friend. It was one of my favorite things to do, shut down all the assholes in this world.”

 

Bucky took another deep breath. “I remember when we were younger and went down to the beach with those sisters, June and Jean? I remember laying in bed that night, worried you’d get sick from goin’ swimmin’ even when I told you I didn’t think it was a good idea.” Bucky leveled him with a sharp, but playful glare and a raised eyebrow. “I sat up half the night just thinkin’ ‘bout you. I wanted to sneak out and come down to your floor, but I knew Ma would have my ass for doing something like that. I’m getting off track here. What I want to say is, I spent the night thinkin’ about how much fun you and I had running around down there.”

 

Steve raised a finger and smirked. “Isn’t that the day you lost it?” 

 

The Commandos burst into laughter, heads thrown back and their hands clutching their stomachs. “You lost it to some girl and all you could think about was Steve?” Dugan laughed. 

 

Bucky flipped him off and continued. “Yes, yes it is. Can I continue?” Steve nodded with a pleased smile. “I think that was when it occurred to me that my love for you was a little more than brotherly. I was too far gone then, already in love with you. Pops used to ask me what I was gonna do with my life after school and all I could say was ‘Steve and I,’” he chuckled. “Couldn’t think of life without you at fifteen years old. Steve, that was twelve years ago. Twelve!

 

“Everything I did was for you. I spent hours working extra so I could buy you new brushes or a new sketchbook for your art classes. I made sure you had your medicine and you kept warm through the night. I made sure you didn’t try to be brave and fight whatever virus had decided to take over again, and I got you to the doctor when I thought you couldn’t do this on your own. Your ma used to joke about how you’d be the death of us both. And honestly, I couldn’t think of a better way to go.” 

 

“And you said I would be a sap?” Steve choked out. 

 

Bucky winked at him. “I just want to thank you, Stevie, for bringing joy to my little world. You always know how to make me smile, how to brighten up the place when things are down. Your such a good man, better than I ever could be. You’re my biggest supporter, my best friend, and the best damn captain a soldier could ask for. I think it’s safe to say there isn’t a better choice than you to lead us in on any mission. And I guess Captain America is pretty nice too.” 

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Thanks Buck.”

 

“You are most welcome, Stevie.” Bucky glanced at Falsworth. “I can’t beat Steve on the sappy scale, so I think we’re done.” 

 

Falsworth nodded, “Do you have rings?” 

 

Steve faltered, his eyes almost comically wide. “I didn’t think that part through,” he mumbled. 

 

Bucky pulled out the box out of rings and grinned. “What would you do without me?” 

 

“You got rings?” Steve gasped. 

 

“You really think I would ask you to marry me and not be prepared?” Bucky opened the box and plucked the golden rings out, handing the smaller one to Steve. 

 

Falsworth cleared his throat. “Do you, Steven Grant Rogers, take James Barnes to be your loving husband?” 

 

Steve grinned. “I do.” 

 

“And do you, James Buchanan Barnes, take Steve Rogers to be your loving husband?” 

 

“I do,” Bucky breathed. 

 

“Hey Falsworth, I don’t think that’s the right order for things. I’m pretty sure you do the rings first then the ‘I do,’” Dugan mumbled. 

 

Falsworth rolled his eyes and waved the bigger man off. “I’m the officiant and I get to decide how this works, okay?” The british man cleared his throat and continued, “If I’m quite honest, Captain, I don’t remember the rings part. At least what you’re supposed say.” 

 

Steve chuckled. “That’s okay, we’ll just exchange ‘em.”

 

“And you might want to hurry,” Morita piped up, “looks like it’s about to snow.” 

 

Bucky shuddered. “Yeah, let’s get out of here before we get stuck.” 

 

“Are you rushing our wedding? This is supposed to be the happiest day of our lives and you’re rushing it?” Steve gave an exaggerated sigh, but his smile gave him away. He took Bucky’s left hand and gently slid the ring on. Steve handed Bucky his own hand and the sergeant slid the ring onto his left ring finger. 

 

A blush covered Bucky’s nose and cheeks. “Sorry if it’s a tight fit. I just assumed your hands were about the same size as mine.” 

 

Steve shrugged. “It’s snug, but I like it. Looks good,” he whispered, his hand held in front of his face to inspect the handcrafted ring. 

 

Falsworth clapped his hands. “With that, I, on behalf of the Howling Commandos, pronounce you husband and husband! You may now kiss each other stupid.” 

 

Steve tugged Bucky in close by his hips, capturing his husband’s ( _ his husband! _ ) lips in his own. Bucky’s arms slid around Steve’s neck, holding him close as they lost themselves in their first kiss as husbands. 

 

The Commandos cheered and clapped, slapping the kissing soldiers on the shoulders. “Congrats, boys,” Dugan announced as he started towards the truck again. The other soldiers followed, leaving Steve and Bucky kissing in the remains of a chapel as the snow started to fall. 

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Steve buried his face in Bucky’s coat, nuzzling the man’s chest as he slept. It was freezing, even for him, and the blankets they were wrapped in weren’t big enough for Steve to cover his face. Instead, he kept his face tucked close to Bucky’s chest, his nose beneath the lapel of Bucky’s peacoat. 

 

The sun was starting to rise, the light peeking into the tent. ‘ _ We’ll have to get up soon _ ,’ he thought as he closed his eyes again, desperate to enjoy the little bit of warmth he could get while wrapped in Bucky’s arms. 

 

Bucky was making the cutest sounds in his sleep, little huffs and grumblings that Steve could listen to for hours. And truth be told, that’s what he’d been doing. 

 

Phillips had sent them on a mission in the Alps and their goal was to intersect Dr. Arnim Zola on his way to another Hydra base. They’d done most of the traveling to the Alps late yesterday afternoon, but the journey up to the vantage point Steve and Phillips had discussed would take a good portion of the day and was too unstable for the Commandos to camp out on for a night and day. Steve had decided to set up camp at the base of the particular mountain and the soldiers would travel the following morning to prepare for the mission. 

 

In the meantime, Steve was more than willing to enjoy a few moments alone with Bucky. Steve shuffled closer, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “What you smiling at?” Bucky slurred as he opened his eyes. “You’re awfully cuddly this mornin’ for someone who ain’t asleep,” Bucky said in a deep, gravelly voice. 

 

Steve peeled open his eyes again. “Shut up and leave me alone.” 

 

“No,” Bucky pulled Steve closer, nuzzling his nose in Steve’s messy dark blond hair. “If we don’t start talking, I’ll fall back asleep. So if you want cuddles, you talk.” 

 

“Is that so?” Steve turned so he was laying partially on Bucky’s chest, his chin resting on Bucky’s right pectoral. 

 

“Very much.” Bucky moved his left arm to hold his head up, giving him a better look at Steve’s shy smile and the light blush that dusted his cheekbones. “I ever told you how pretty you are?”

 

Steve ducked his head, his forehead resting against Bucky’s chest. He lifted it again, biting his lip. “Occasionally.” 

 

Bucky smiled. “Good. You need to hear it. And I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout your new looks, either, doll. I mean the parts of you that haven’t changed, you get that right?” Furrowed brows and the way Steve’s mouth opened just a little gave him all the answer he needed. Hell, he was just waiting for Steve to cock his head and mumble a ‘huh?’ before he caved and continued his explanation. “Before, when you were my skinny little Stevie,” Bucky raised his right arm to run his fingers through Steve’s hair and his thumb over his cheek, “you always gave me this goofy smile. And your teeth were a little crooked and you never could figure out how to smile without it looking awkward.” His thumb grazed Steve’s bottom lip, a fond smile growing on both of their faces. “And those lips, goddamnit. You sure know how to kiss a fella stupid, Stevie.”

 

“I had a good teacher,” Steve admitted softly. Bucky winked at him as he slid his fingers back into Steve’s hair. Steve’s face took on an unusual shy, insecure tone as he mumbled a meek, “Keep going?”

 

“Absolutely,” Bucky breathed. “Your eyes are probably my biggest weakness. I live to see that sparkle you’ve got, the one that I see every time you get excited about new paintbrushes or a piece you’ve been workin’ on forever. You always know just how to look at me to make my heart skip a beat or calm me down from a nightmare. It’s like,” Bucky let himself trail off, his own eyebrows furrowing as he tried to desperately find the word he was searching for. 

 

Steve’s left hand reached forward, right in front of Bucky’s head so he could see what he was doing. (Bucky had developed a dislike for people touching his head. It was understandable and he didn’t necessarily hate it, but still. Steve, who had a hard time shaking the instinctual tendency to run his fingernails over Bucky’s scalp when they were laying together or tug on his hair during a heated make out session, learned to warn Bucky about his actions whenever he intended to touch or kiss Bucky’s head and face. If Bucky had a warning and it was Steve, Bucky didn’t mind at all having his hair played with or his face caressed. Then again, Steve could kill him and he’d be okay with it.) His fingertips brushed Bucky’s forehead, smoothing out the crease that had formed on Bucky’s forehead and in between his eyebrows. “It’s okay. I get it,” Steve whispered.

 

Bucky gave an embarrassed smile, but continued nonetheless. “I don’t even know how to describe this to you. But like I was saying before, you’ve always been pretty in my eyes. Whether you’re ninety pounds and as tall as my chest or a super soldier built like a truck. You’ll always be my pretty little Stevie.” 

 

“Thank you, Bucky,” Steve whispered as he leaned in a little. Bucky blushed and met him halfway for a soft kiss. 

 

It would have deepened into something more if it hadn’t been for Dugan bellowing, “Hey, Mr. and Mrs. America, let’s get a move on! We’ve got mountains to climb!” 

 

Steve pulled away with a breathy chuckle. Bucky, however, pursed his lips and cocked his head. “Why do they assume I bottom?”

 

“Hey, we split it fifty/fifty,” Steve reminded with a wink. “C’mon. I’ve got a troop to command and a mission to complete.” 

 

Bucky groaned, but let Steve go nonetheless. The captain stood and grabbed his uniform jacket, quickly slipping out of his undershirt in exchange for a clean one. Bucky had moved to lay on his side, watching with adoring eyes as Steve undressed and dressed. “Hey Steve?” he asked softly, “Where’d you get that scar? The one under your arm?”

 

The blond paused what he was doing and looked down at his torso where very faint scars littered his body from the numerous cuts and scraps he’d received since the serum had given him a clean slate. “Which one?” He smirked, eyes trying to figure out which of the thin white scars Bucky was talking about this time.

 

The sergeant leaned forward and touched the faded scar just below his ribcage on his left side. “This one.”

 

Steve thought for a moment, mentally going through the catalogue of injuries he’d endured. “Oh, that was the day I got the serum.” He slid his undershirt back on and grabbed his jacket. “We’d just completed the serum and everyone was celebrating when this Hydra goon shot Erskine. I, of course, chased him through Brooklyn until he killed himself down at one of the docks. At some point, he shot at me and the bullet grazed me.” Steve shrugged and started to clasp his jacket together. 

 

“You don’t have any idea?” The way Steve’s eyes cut to the side and his lips pulled tight, Bucky knew Steve was completely sure just how he got it. “Steve,” he warned. 

 

The blushing captain gave a dry chuckle and looked to the ceiling of their tent. “It may have been when I jumped on the roof of the taxi and he tried to shoot me from the inside.”

 

Bucky sat up, a sharp glare cutting his eyes. “Was he driving?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Were you on the taxi he was driving?”

 

“Uh, yes?”

 

“And you just happened to jump on? So he just started to what? Shoot the roof in various places and hope you’d be there?” 

 

“Um, probably?” 

 

“Steve, you idiot!” If Bucky had been any louder, he probably would have started an avalanche.

 

Once the camp was packed up and the Commandos were fed, the troops started their journey to the vantage point. The trek up the mountain was rough on all of them. The air was getting thinner and the chill in the air had settled deep within their bones. “We better get a real place to stay after this,” Dugan grumbled. 

 

“Just try to not think about it,” Morita suggested.

 

“Yes, because telling someone to not think of something always works,” Bucky quipped from his place beside Steve. “You finalized the plan, yet?”

 

Steve sighed, but nodded. “I did. Gabe and I are going in, I’m going to find Zola and Gabe’s going to watch my back. Falsworth will watch out for the train, Dernier will help set up the zipline, and Morita will keep an ear out on the radio. You and Dugan are going to be our eyes, make sure we aren’t about to get ambushed.” 

 

Bucky scoffed. “Stevie, this is too big a mission for just you and Gabe to go in. You need someone else. There’s no telling what will be on that train.” 

 

“Which is why I want as few people on it as possible,” Steve reminded. 

 

“Steve,” Bucky insisted, “I’m not letting you go by yourself.”

 

“I won’t be by myself, I’ll be with Gabe.” Steve shifted the gun in his hand and the shield on his back. 

 

Bucky grabbed his arm. “I’m not leaving this up for discussion. I’m going with you. It won’t hurt to have an extra pair of eyes and another gun watching your back. Don’t even try and argue, Rogers,” he said quietly, his jaw tightened and eyes deadly serious. 

 

Steve glared at him, holding his ground for as long as he could. “Fine. But you’re with me, got it?” 

 

A mischievous grin spread across Bucky’s face, his eyes crinkling just enough to make Steve’s heart swell. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Cap.” 

 

They set up a small camp on the ridge that overlooked the tracks. Morita and Gabe set up the radio while Dugan and Dernier set up the zipline. Falsworth was on look-out duty, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the train. 

 

“This is some jump,” Bucky mumbled. 

 

Steve bumped his shoulder. “You’re not scared are you? You can back out at anytime. I promise I won’t tease you too much.” 

 

Bucky rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. “Remember that time I made you ride the Cyclone on Coney Island?”

 

“Yeah, and I threw up?”

 

“This isn’t payback, is it?” 

 

“Now why would I do that?” Steve glanced back at the mountain, before he turned to Bucky with a wink. 

 

“We were right. Dr. Zola's on the train,” Gabe announced, “Hydra dispatcher gave him permission to open up the throttle. Wherever he's going, they must need him bad.” 

 

Steve and Bucky moved into action, getting their gear put on and preparing themselves for the jump. “Hey,” Bucky whispered, “till the end of the line, right?”

 

“Till the end of the line,” Steve said before he leaned forward to steal a quick kiss. “But this ain’t the end, got it?” Bucky smiled and he would have said something more if it weren’t for Falsworth catching view of the train.

 

“Let's get going, because they're moving like the devil,” he said as he turned to the rest of his team.

 

“We only got about a 10-second window. You miss that window, we're bugs on a windshield,” Steve commanded.

 

“Mind the gap,” Falsworth injected. 

 

“Better get moving, bugs!” Dugan boomed and Steve slid down the zipline with Bucky and Gabe in tow. 

 

It wasn’t until Steve reached the top of the train a few hours later that Steve really regretted not putting his foot down on Bucky coming with. He paused, still crouched on the train, for a split second as he waited for the sounds of Bucky’s boots hitting the metal. Missions with Bucky always made him anxious and he was sure it was reciprocated. He’d much rather have Bucky perched up on some building or in a tree than down on the ground with him. 

 

Steve led the two soldiers down the train car, climbing down the ladder. Bucky waited until he was opening the door before following, leaving Gabe to crawl along the train cars to get to the one Zola was supposed to be in according to the intel they’d gotten from the radio. 

 

The car Steve walked into was meant for weapons storage. He walked on one side, motioning silently for Bucky to take the other. The sergeant stayed a few steps behind him, rifle in hand. Steve had barely gotten into the next car when the doors slammed shut between them. He spun around, his hands slamming the glass window, to see Bucky firing at a Hydra soldier on the other side of his car. 

 

The whirring of a Hydra gun made the captain spin back around, shield in hand. Steve shot at him before the gun was at ready, counting the seconds it took for the Hydra gun to load. He ducked behind a crate, still counting to himself. 

 

The gun shot twice before it started to whirr again, leaving Steve with plenty of time to take down the gunman. He jumped up, rushed forward, propelled himself off a crate, and took hold of the hook hanging from the ceiling. Steve slid forward, shield protecting him as the gunman fired at him, until he was close enough to kick the man back, using his shield to ensure the man wouldn’t be getting up for a moment. 

 

Steve grabbed the gun from the Hydra goon and fired at the wall that led to the car Bucky was in. He quickly rushed over, crawling through the hole he made, and crossed over to the other car to see if Bucky needed help. When he got to the window, Bucky was crouched behind a crate on the left, holding his gun to reload. ‘Shit, he’s out,’ Steve cursed mentally. 

 

He snatched his own gun from the holster, checked to see if it was loaded still, and took a deep breath. Flattened against the wall, he opened the door. Bucky, still flattened against his own wall, looked up to see Steve holding the gun. He raised it a bit higher before tossing it to the sergeant. The sniper caught it effortlessly, readying himself to jump up when Steve was ready.

 

The captain moved forward, running right at the shelves of crates as Bucky took aim. His shield hit the longest crate, propelling it forward where the Hydra goon had taken cover. The man jumped to the left and Bucky took the shot, the gunman falling limp to the floor. “I had him on the ropes,” Bucky told him. 

 

Steve stood from the floor, walking backwards to meet Bucky as the sergeant kept his gun pointed to the man. “I know you did,” Steve panted.

 

The whirring of a gun sounded behind them, the goon Steve had taken out now aiming his gun. Steve’s breath caught in his throat as he shoved Bucky behind him, ducking under the shield with a scream of, “Get down!” He held Bucky close to him, the weight of the man on his back comforting his anxiety just enough to try and take down the man. The Hydra gunman shot at the shield, the ray bouncing off and blasting a hole in the train. Steve was thrown to the other wall, shield discarded and Bucky exposed. 

 

His ears were ringing as he struggled to get his ground, to get the strength needed to clear his head and stand up. It was like the air was being sucked out the hole, the sound loud and obnoxious in their ears. The air was already hard to breath at this altitude, but the suction the hole had made only intensified the situation. 

 

When he finally looked up, Bucky had the shield in his hand and a gun pointed at the man, stalking the Hydra goon with a scowl. Steve’s heart was hammering in his chest as he watched. 

 

The Hydra soldier shot again, hitting the shield on the star. Bucky was thrown back, the suction from the hole in the wall pulling him out the train. Steve scrambled up, grabbed his shield, threw it at the Nazi with all he had, and slung off his helmet as he reached the hole. 

 

“Bucky!” He hollered over the wind, climbing onto the sheet of wall that had been peeled off in the blast. Bucky was hanging on a rail, dangling precariously over the side of the mountain. Steve’s chest felt tight, his pulse impossibly high, as he carefully worked his way close to Bucky’s side. “Hang on,” he called, moving closer to the end of his rail. 

 

Bucky was crawling closer to the end of his own rail, going inch by inch. His grip was starting to slip, his fingers aching the longer he held himself up. 

 

Steve was as close as he could get when he called, “Grab my hand!” He reached for his husband, desperate to pull the man close to him. But the rail Bucky was holding started to give, shaking in Bucky’s grip. His eyes widened. “No!” He lunged forward, one hand gripping the rail tightly and the other reaching for Bucky as he started to slip.

 

The sergeant tried to grasp Steve’s hand, but it was too late. The rail detached from the side, Bucky’s hand inches away from Steve’s. Bucky screamed as he fell, the horrified noise echoing in Steve’s ears.

 

The blond curled in on himself, huddling closer to the wall. He watched in horror as the train sped on and Bucky’s flailing body fell to the ground. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t believe what was happening. 

 

His world was crumbling around him and all he could do was watch. 

 

It wasn’t until Bucky could no longer be seen that he finally looked away. He held onto the rail, willing it to give away so he could be with his love. ‘ _ Why him? _ ’ he thought, his eyes squeezed shut as the sob took ahold of his throat, daring him to say something. He broke, huddled against the peeled back train car and with his forehead against the cool metal as he cried as hard as he could. The wind drowned out his screams, the force whipping around him with all it’s might. 

 

Maybe it would knock him off, too.

 

Steve hung there until his arms grew tired and his throat hurt from crying so hard. The slivers of exposed skin were pink and raw from the wind whipping around him, but he didn’t care. Why should he? The love of his life is gone because of him, because he wasn’t quick enough to save him. 

 

Eventually, Steve willed himself to crawl back into the train, falling onto the floor like a broken doll once he was inside. His face was freezing, his hands and arms sore from holding onto the rail. If he didn’t have the serum, there’s a chance Steve would have gone with him, would have fell to the bottom of the valley. _ ‘That’d be better than this _ ,’ he thought. If only he’d reached a little farther or scooted a little faster, then maybe Bucky would be okay.

 

Guilt crept up his chest, suffocating him from within. This isn’t fair, he didn’t want this. Bucky wasn’t supposed to be on this mission, he wasn’t supposed to be over here to begin with! He didn’t want to fight in this war and if Steve hadn’t tried to get him to join his team, Bucky would still be fighting alongside the rest of the country in the 107th. ‘ _ But if you hadn’t come around, Hydra would have killed him. They almost did and you know it. After everything they did to him and this is how he’s repaid? Bullshit _ .’ 

 

Steve wiped at his face, the skin raw from the harsh beating of the wind and the tears that had practically frozen on his face. His eyes, still wet, were sore and throbbing from crying for so long with so much force and pain. 

 

Steve felt empty and wrong. A big, black, empty hole had made a home in Steve’s chest, growing bigger and bigger with each second Steve laid there on the metal floor.

 

The train sped on, the air in the car was still being sucked out the gaping hole in the wall. Steve knew he had a mission to complete, that he needed to go help Gabe and take down Zola.

 

A dark part of him didn’t want to let Zola live. An even darker part of him wanted to kill Zola himself.

 

Steve let himself fall into his Captain America persona as he fell in on himself, pulling himself away from the character and letting him do all the work. He vaguely remembered knocking out a few Hydra goons with his shield, ripping off doors and snatching weapons from the gunmen that littered the place, but he was running on autopilot.

 

He burst through the door of the engine room, where Gabe and Zola were waiting patiently for him. “We saw what happened, Captain,” Zola quipped.

 

“You don’t get to talk,” Steve growled as he took a dangerous step closer. Gabe interjected, holding Steve back with his arm. 

 

“Captain, we need him alive,” he said softly. “I don’t know what happened or what he did-”

 

Steve shook him off. “Just get us to the next station immediately. I want off this train.” 

 

Gabe nodded. “We’re meeting Phillips’ men in two miles. I’ve already ordered the engineers to start the process of slowing down, it’s either that or they spend the rest of their lives in jail.” 

 

“Whatever it takes,” Steve mumbled. He threw a sharp glare at Zola, keeping his gaze locked on the scientist long enough to watch the fear flicker through his eyes before he headed into the next car to being his task of securing the train. 

 

When they reached the checkpoint, Steve quickly filled out a report of what happened on this mission like he did for every mission. “Captain, where’s Barnes?” Phillips called as he climbed out of his truck. Gabe caught wind of the conversation, his own curiosity piqued. 

 

Steve, bristled and hunched over the paperwork, didn’t respond. He simply filled out the report and handed it to the Colonel. Steve stood at attention, his jaw clenched tight and his eyes focused forward. He waited until the older man had skimmed through it and looked up with sad, sympathetic, knowing look. Steve cleared his throat, the lump that he’d pushed aside growing with each second Colonel Phillips looked at him. “I’d like to take my men on a search party, see if we can’t find him,” he said softly, but clear and authoritative. 

 

Colonel Phillips lifted his sidecap to run a hand over his head. “You have my permission. You get three days, you don’t find anything then we send home a letter with his things. Understood?”

 

“Sir,” Steve started, “with your permission I’d like to return home with the letter. The Barnes are the only family I got left,” his voice was thick with his Brooklyn drawl as he pleaded with the Colonel, “I’d like to be the one to give them this news. It’s the right thing to do, given that it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t-”

 

“I’m going to stop you right there. This isn’t your fault, son. You both were doing what you had to do and I don’t want to hear you take blame for this. Am I clear?”

 

“Yes sir.” Steve gave a short, curt nod. 

 

Colonel Phillips sighed. “I’ll see if Stark can take you back to New York. He’s got to get the next shipment of weapons he’s got for me. Don’t think he’d mind having a passenger too much.” 

 

Steve nodded again. “Thank you, sir.” Steve gave a quick salute and turned on his heel to head to the truck where Dugan was waiting. 

 

Gabe jogged forward to catch up with him, noticing how Steve’s breath was getting quicker and his eyes were watery. “C’mon, it’s just a few more feet. You can do this, Captain,” Gabe mumbled as he planted a hand on Steve’s shoulder, practically pushing the taller man towards the truck. 

 

Steve took a sharp breath, his emotions rising even quicker with the comforting weight of Gabe’s hand on his shoulder. But he was able to keep it at bay as he climbed into the truck, sliding into the front seat with Dugan, Gabe behind him. “Drive,” Steve ordered, his voice solid and emotionless despite the inner turmoil he was facing. 

 

“Where-” Dugan started, but after a sharp glare from Steve he didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, Dum Dum revved the engine and started towards camp. 

 

It was a silent ride, except for the engine of the truck and the rattling of their gear in the back. Gabe signaled to the others to stay silent as he kept a steady, comforting hand on Steve’s back. 

 

After the second mile, Steve started to crack. It was a slow process, starting with the lump in his throat and his chest tightening. And then his eyes watered and he had to bit his lip to stop it from trembling. The road ahead of them started to blur and his breathing grew shakier. Gabe noticed, his grip tightening on his shoulder. That only made it worse.

 

And then, he just broke. 

 

A sob wretched through his throat, breaking the silence like a bomb. He burrowed his face in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. He shook with each sob, drowning out the rattling in the back and the hum of the engine. Gabe pulled him up and into him, cradling Steve’s head against his chest. 

 

“What the hell happened out there?” Dugan asked, going back and forth between staring at Steve with wide, concerned eyes to glancing at the road. 

 

Steve cried harder, screaming into Gabe’s chest as the pain radiated in his chest. It was suffocating and unbearable, his pain pulsing through his veins. How did people live like this? How do you live after watching someone you loved more than anything die at your own hand? How do you move on from this, knowing you could have done something to prevent it, to stop it? 

 

Gabe cleared his throat, his own voice thick and watery. “We lost Sarge.” 

 

Dugan pulled off the road and shut the engine off, letting the news soak in. Steve’s muffled screams of heartbreak echoed through their ears, a sound so heartbreaking and filled with pain that the Commandos knew they’d never forget. 

 

“How’d it happen?” Morita asked, quiet and somber. 

 

“I’m not sure. I didn’t get a good look at the report and the cameras Zola had went down after before I could see anything. Steve,” Gabe didn’t finish his sentence. He simply held Steve closer, a few tears of his own dripping off his cheeks. 

 

They sat in silence, listening to Steve cry himself to sleep against Gabe’s chest. Falsworth passed around a handkerchief, sniffling as he avoided eye contact with the rest of the Commandos. Dernier was mumbling a prayer in French, ducking his head between his arms. Morita cried softly as he looked out the window, his body turned away from the others. Dugan had his head against the steering wheel, his tears falling freely as he tried his best to keep his sobs in check. 

 

Dugan eventually started the truck again, driving the Commandos to the base. Steve slept the entire way, draped across Gabe’s lap with red, puffy cheeks and tear stains tracking their way down towards his chin. Hell, they all had tears in their eyes. It wasn’t easy for any of them, losing a brother in arms like this. Especially with how close the seven of them were. “We’re about a mile out. Wanna wake him up?” Dugan whispered. 

 

Gabe looked down at the captain, who looked just as heartbroken in his sleep, and sighed. “Steve,” Gabe said softly with a nudge to the super soldier’s shoulder. “We’re almost to base. Gotta wake up, buddy.” 

 

Steve whimpered and his face twisted into a pained, sad expression. He peeled open his eyes, blinked hard a few times, and sat up, running a hand through his messy hair. “It wasn’t a dream, was it?” He asked in a gruff, raw voice. The heavy silence was an answer in its own. Steve nodded, his bottom lip trembling just a little before he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “We’re starting a search party. We get to base, we grab enough equipment for three days and then we’re going back to the mountain.” 

 

“Steve, I don’t think-” Falsworth started.

 

“I don’t care. We’re looking for him. If there’s even a sliver of a chance that he made it, then I’m not giving up until we find him.” Steve’s glanced to the rear view mirror in front of him, his eyes a mixture of anger and sorrow. “If you don’t want to go, then fine. You can stay at base. But I’m going.” 

 

Dugan sighed. “We’re going with. Give us ten minutes and we’ll meet you back at the truck.”

 

Steve scoured the area, trying to figure out where Bucky could be. Morita mapped out where the Commandos intersected the train and where they got off at. Steve’s plan was to scope out the mile radius along the tracks and the ravine that wound it’s way between the mountains. 

 

It’d been two days and so far, they’d found nothing. 

 

“He’s gotta be here,” Steve mumbled. 

 

“We’ve still got another two miles to comb through, Rogers. Don’t give up just yet,” Dugan mumbled as he passed by the captain, clapping his hand on to his shoulder.

 

Steve harrumphed and continued, jogging ahead of the Commandos. Falsworth, Gabe, and Dernier were looking in the forest at the same rate and speed Steve, Morita, and Dugan were going, and yet, they barely found anything. 

 

This seemed impossible.

 

Steve’s heart broke with every frantic second as he searched for Bucky. He just needed to see him, for one last time. There was still a chance he could be alive, barely but a chance. 

 

His mind flashed back to when he read  _ Call of the Wild _ and how his mother had spent an entire night telling him stories about men who had survived on their own in Canada and Alaska. Those men survived to tell their stories, figuring out a way to get themselves home in some form or fashion. Steve just knew Bucky was smart and strong enough to figure out how to get back to Base or something. 

 

Then again, those men didn’t fall off a mountain. Bucky was probably injured and in a ton of pain, there’s no way he’d be able to fend off an animal or get himself to safety. 

 

‘ _ If he is still alive, I hope he’s not in too much pain. God, I should have moved faster. I should have come alone, then I’d be able to cover more space. I could move faster, get him out of here quicker. This is all my fault _ ,’ Steve’s brain supplied. 

 

He moved faster, practically sprinting at full speed ahead. His chest hurt, his heart hammering away with each ragged breath. His head was spinning and his cheeks were raw from the cold, but kept on. Steve blinked away the tears and ran, his eyes scanning the area quickly and strategically. 

 

Dugan bellowed his name at a risky volume that echoed against the mountains. 

 

Steve stumbled to a halt, falling into the snow as his breathing quickened. Suddenly everything became overwhelming and far too slow for his liking. He needed to move faster, he needed more time, he needed to find Bucky.

 

He needed Bucky. 

 

The snow was grounding, bringing Steve back to reality. Slowly, his breathing evened out and his head stopped spinning. He knelt up and focused on keeping his thoughts at bay, watching his breath materialize in the cold air. 

 

Dugan and Morita caught up to him, a little winded. “Steve, are you okay, pal?” 

 

The captain shook his head, barely listening to the words Dugan spilled. Instead, he stared ahead and blinked away the tears that threatened to spill. 

 

That’s when something shiny caught his eye a few yards ahead. 

 

Steve scrambled up and made his way over to the object. He knelt down and brushed some of the snow away to reveal a silver chain buried in the snow. Steve gasped and carefully tugged the chain, the dog tags jingling with the movement. His gloved thumb traced the indented metal, his eyes trying to make out what the words said. 

 

_ James B. Barnes  _

_ 32557038  T42  43  A Pos _

_ Steven G. Rogers _

_ Brooklyn, NY    P _

 

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and closed his hand around the tags. And then he went to work. Steve dug around the area, looking for anything that could signify Bucky was here.  

 

“Find anything?” Dugan asked as he caught up to him. “Cause if not, you’re scarin’ us. I mean, we get that this is difficult and all, but still,” Dugan let his voice trail off. 

 

“I found his tags,” Steve explained as he handed Dugan the chain.

 

Morita gasped, dropped his bags and started to search the snow. Dugan handed the tags back to Steve and grinned, a spark of hope in his eyes. 

 

They looked for a few more minutes, their hands freezing as they clawed through the snow. Steve felt giddy with optimism, a small lump of fresh tears ready to burst with relief. 

 

Until Morita told Steve to look at something.

 

Morita had kicked a patch of snow to reveal a puddle of red, sticky liquid. 

 

Blood.

 

“Rogers, there are prints all ‘round here,” Dugan mentioned as he surveyed the area. 

 

Steve swallowed the lump and clenched his hand around the dog tags. “You don’t think,” he didn’t let himself finish. 

 

Dugan clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Steve. The truth of the matter, as shitty as it is, is that Barnes couldn’t have survived that fall. And if by some magical miracle he did, he most likely hurt himself real bad in the process. Steve, that’s a lot of blood to be spilling out in the cold. Especially in the forest where all sorts of animals are roamin’ just lookin’ for their next meal. I’m sorry, pal,” Dugan said quietly, his voice as sturdy and calming as the hand he had resting on Steve’s shoulder. 

 

If only his words were, too.

 

Steve nodded, barely listening. “We’ll look for another half mile. If we still see a trail, we’ll follow. If not, then we can,” he took a deep, shaky breath, “we can head back. Morita, let the others know.” Steve walked on, leaving Dugan and Morita standing above the puddle of blood. 

 

He followed animal prints and kicked at the snow, revealing a spatter of blood here and there. 

 

And then nothing. 

 

“Hey, Rogers,” Dugan called a couple of feet back. Steve turned quickly, hopeful eyes already watery. “I found something you might want,” Dugan explained. And then he held up a small, golden sliver of metal. 

 

Bucky’s wedding ring. 

 

Steve squeezed his eyes tight, using all of his willpower not to break down into tears again in front of the Commandos. “Thank you,” he squeaked as he gingerly took the ring out of the sergeant’s hand. 

 

He slid it onto the chain with the dog tags, hooked the chain together, and carefully tucked it away in the pouch on his hip where his compass was resting in the leather. 

 

“What’s the plan? Keep going, or are you ready to turn back?” Dugan asked softly.

 

Steve sighed. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to turn back,” he admitted. “But Phillips is sending me home with Buck’s things so I can, um, tell his family. ‘Sides, our three day limit will be up by the time we get back to camp. Let the others know.” The blond pushed past the two soldiers and started towards their truck. 

 

He avoided the blood like the plague, his head held high and his shoulders tense. 

 

All he could think about was how nothing would ever be the same. 

 

Steve gathered the box of Bucky’s things in his hands and mumbled a quiet thanks to the cab driver as he climbed out. He slung his duffel over his shoulder and took a deep, shaky breath. It seemed he was always on the edge of tears lately, constantly fighting back a broken sob and an onslaught of tears. 

 

The captain had ditched his patriotic suit and donned his typical SSR uniform for the trip. He didn’t want Captain America telling the Barnes they’d lost a son. No, Steve Rogers from the floor below needed to be the one to tell them about Bucky. 

 

Steve let his legs carry him up the creaking stairs, his brain mulling over how he’d go about telling his family (they were technically his in-laws given that Steve and Bucky had gotten married. Legal or not.) such a delicate news. 

 

It was hard enough for him to believe it had happened at all. He woke up every morning thinking Bucky had stepped out the tent or was sleeping on the other side of the room so it wasn’t so obvious they were together, only to be crushed once more by the disgusting truth that was Bucky’s fate. 

 

‘It should have been me,’ Steve thought as he reached the Barnes’ door.

 

The bustling sounds of a Barnes’ family dinner hummed in the hallway. Steve could make out their voices, from Winifred’s infectious laugh to the shrill sound of Rose babbling to her family. His heart broke just a little more (if that was even possible) as he knocked on the door, two quick, powerful raps with one of his knuckles. 

 

He heard the scraping of a chair and the pattering of bare feet on the tiled floor as someone walked quickly to answer the door. It swung open to reveal Daisy, looking like a true teenager with her long, dark hair curled against her shoulders. Steve sucked in a sharp breath as he took in the plaid shirt she wore, one of Bucky’s old work shirts. 

 

“Steve!” Daisy gasped as she jumped into his arms.

 

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat (not that it ever went away) and hugged her tight with his free arm, the other holding the box of Bucky’s things (minus the stuff Steve had snuck into his personal belongings, like the copy of  _ Gatsby _ and the notebook he gave Bucky with all the sketches and notes he did for the other man). “Hi, Daze,” he replied weakly. 

 

She pulled away from him, a grin on her face. “Is the war over? Are you and Bucky coming home? Is Eugene gonna come back?”

 

The blond’s brow furrowed. “Eugene got drafted?”

 

Daisy nodded. “Got put in the 107th like Bucky did.” She waved off the topic and dragged the man inside. “C’mon, Ma just made dinner. Bet you’re hungry! Hey, where’s Bucky at anyway? Or was this a Captain America solo thing? He with all your friends back in Europe? What’s that like?” 

 

Steve didn’t get a chance to begin to answer her questions before Winifred squished him into her embrace. “What a lovely surprise!” She squeezed him tight and pulled away with a kiss to his cheek. “Steven Rogers, home for dinner at last. What brings you here, baby?” He opened his mouth to respond but Winifred waved him off to pull him into the kitchen. “Look who showed up, George!” 

 

“Steve, always good to see you,” George grinned. He stuck out his hand for Steve to shake, a powerful grip that made Steve wonder how hard he could punch. 

 

“I wouldn’t say-” Steve started, but Becky interrupted with a scoff and a glare.

 

She crossed her arms and pursed her lips, “Where’s my brother?” 

 

Steve opened his mouth to say something, the box now held tightly in his lap, but Daisy interjected. “He’s in Europe still. Steve’s here on a Captain America mission.”

 

He held up his hand, “I never said that-”

 

“Isn’t that lovely? Giving you a chance to come home for a few days and do your work. It would have been nice to see Bucky too, but I suppose we’ll settle for you,” Winifred hummed as she set down an overfilled plate in front of him. A wave of nausea hit him as he grimaced. He couldn’t figure out if it was from the sheer amount of food before him or the welcoming he was receiving. 

 

Maybe he should have let Phillips send that letter. . .

 

Steve cleared his throat, trying his best to ignore how tight his chest felt. “Mr. and Mrs. Barnes, can I, um, talk to you in private?” He asked suddenly, standing up from the table in quick jerky movements. 

 

Winifred and George shared a confused, and slightly amused, look before they guided him into their bedroom. 

 

The moment Steve walked in, he was assaulted by the memories he made with Bucky in this very room. Stealing George’s clothes and playing with Winifred’s jewelry, hiding from the Barnes’ siblings during a rousing game of hide-in-seek one winter afternoon, sneaking a quick peek at George’s magazines while he was at work, and scavenging the room for medical supplies to help Eugene when he scraped up his back in a game of baseball. He wanted to freeze time to let himself soak in the memories while he was still welcome in this home.

 

But the Barnes looked at him expectantly. 

 

Winifred sat down on the bed, George standing beside her, and looked up at Steve. “What is it, son?” George asked in a stern, yet comforting voice.

 

Steve took a deep breath. “I’m not here on Captain America business. Not technically, at least.” The captain placed the box on the floor and kneeled down in front of Winifred. He took her hand gingerly and swallowed. “I, um, just,” but that’s all he could manage before he broke down, crying like a child on his knees before his  husband’s best friend’s parents. 

 

“What happened, Steven?” Winifred asked, suspicion evident in her voice as she ran a hand through his neatly combed hair. 

 

He shook his head, blubbering and a complete mess as he struggled to get the words out. 

 

“Steven,” George started, “take a deep breath. C’mon now. Just like you did when the asthma got bad. Deep breath. You can do it, son. Calm down.” The older man knelt beside him, a hand on his upper back. 

 

‘ _ Was he ever like this with Bucky? _ ’ Steve wondered as he did as he was told, taking deep breaths to rid himself of his sobs. He shook his head again and looked up at Winifred, the worry in her features aging her by ten years. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

 

It only took her a second to realize what he meant. 

 

Winifred’s face crumbled in slow motion as it hit her, her free hand covering her mouth as the tears welled up. “No,” she croaked from behind her hand. She shook her head, her eyes still locked on Steve’s. “No, this isn’t- No, I can’t-  _ George _ ,” she cried.

 

Steve moved away to give them some space, watching with a horrified expression as they fell apart against one another. Winifred’s cries grew loud and hysterical, muffled only by George’s shoulder. George himself was crying into Winifred’s hair, mumbling something Steve couldn’t quite catch even with his super soldier hearing. 

 

He watched as they cried and cried and cried. His guilt consumed him, darkening his thoughts and threatening to kill him. ‘ _ This wouldn’t be happening if you hadn’t let Bucky on that damn mission like you planned. This wouldn’t be happening if you had just reached a little farther. This wouldn’t be happening if you had just gotten to the shield first, then it would have been you hanging by a rail over a mountain side. _ ’ It didn’t help that every time Steve closed his eyes he was welcomed with the sight of Bucky looking up at him with a terrified expression as he held on for dear life. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so, so sorry.”

 

Steve gasped awake, his heart thumping against his chest and his eyes frantically surveying the dark, messy room. He was home, in his and Bucky’s apartment, in the middle of Brooklyn. “You’re okay, Rogers,” Steve whispered to himself. He ran a hand through his hair and kicked off the sheets that had wrapped around his ankle. “You’re okay. It was just a bad dream-”

 

Except it wasn’t. 

 

The nightmare’s images burned his eyes, flashing whenever he closed them. There, he saw Bucky hanging from the rail until it gave out, sending the sergeant down to the bottom of the mountain. His screams echoed in his ears, growing softer and softer with each breath he took. 

 

His Bucky was gone forever. 

 

Steve brought his hand up to his face, biting at his knuckle until he tasted blood. His Bucky, his beautiful, incredible, amazing Bucky, was gone and he’d never see him again. He was gone and Steve could have prevented it, could have stopped it from happening to begin with. 

 

He’d never hear Bucky’s laugh when he did something stupid. He’d never get to hear Bucky lecture him about how reckless and obnoxious he was being. He’d never get to see that annoyed and stern expression as he helped clean up some wound from a fight, or the hint of a smile that always tried to peek through. He’d never get to hear Bucky snore softly beside him or feel his fingers run across his spine as he tried to sleep. He’d never feel Bucky’s warmth beside him as he slept. He’d never get to see Bucky winking at him from across the room. He’d never get to see Bucky box again or get lessons that always ended up in sweaty makeout sessions. He’d never get to have Bucky standing beside him, with a hand on his shoulder, neck, or back, (and if they were really risky, his ass) when he talked tactics with the other Commandos. He’d never get to tell him stupid jokes or rant about the asshole he ran into on the street. He’d never get to hook their ankles together at dinner or knock their knees against each other as they lounged around. He’d never get to have Bucky pose for him, sketching as slowly as he could just so he could have an excuse to gawk at him. He’d never get to ask Bucky how the docks were or if he was ready for his next match. 

 

He’d never get to do anything because Bucky was gone and nothing could bring him back. . .

 

Steve threw his pillow at the wall, breaking one of their lamps, and jumped from the bed. He couldn’t stay here, not surrounded by all the memories he and Bucky had made in this little apartment of theirs. Hell, he didn’t know where else to go. . . Brooklyn was filled with memories of him and Bucky, from the corner down the street where Bucky and Steve helped take care of the neighborhood stray’s newest litter to the time Steve saved Bucky from getting hit by a car during a rousing game of baseball. 

 

He didn’t like this. He didn’t like living alone with nothing to do except for mourning. He was stuck in his head, encompassed by his depressing thoughts and the simple fact that he still had a war to fight.

 

And now he had a purpose.

 

Steve stormed into the kitchen, sniffling and whimpering (as pathetic as it may be) as he tried to find some source of food. The cupboards were bare and the ice box was empty. He hadn’t even considered shopping for food, not when Bucky used to work at the grocer they go to. Thankfully, the diner that Bucky couldn’t stand (“Steve, they’re tacky! Who in their right mind makes their entire restaurant orange and purple?”) was open for most of the time and Becca was constantly cooking as a method of coping (and because Winifred was too distraught to cook).

 

He wasn’t hungry anyways. Not that he ate a lot since it happened. 

 

Steve shook his head and stumbled over to the couch, crumbling onto the flimsy furniture. For a brief second, he considered making a pillow fort in honor of Bucky, just like he had done for Steve when his mother passed. He chose against it, if not for the simple fact that his limbs felt too heavy to move. 

 

He knew eventually he’d have to. He’d have to get up and get dressed in his SSR uniform just like he had everyday since he came home. (He didn’t have many civilian clothes that fit him. Even the ones he wore prior to starting the Howling Commandos didn’t fit him right anymore.) He’d have to put on a brave face and go down to the cemetery that his mother was buried in. 

 

Today was the day Bucky would be given an honorary headstone.

 

Hours flew by, the weight in his chest growing heavier as he laid staring at the blank wall. It wasn’t until he heard the phone ringing in the hallway that he pulled himself up. He let the phone ring, deciding instead to finally get dressed. 

 

Steve honestly didn’t know if he could do this. He didn’t know if he could keep it together enough for the Barnes. He was Captain America, the star spangled man with a plan who took down Nazis head on and punched Hitler over two hundred times. What would it look like if he couldn’t stop himself from crying? How weak would he look? 

 

But this wasn’t about him, it was about Bucky. 

 

The walk to the cemetery was soothing, in a way. He let his legs take him, kept his head tucked down against the brisk February wind, and counted his steps to keep himself from thinking about everything.

 

Another body sidled up beside him, walking fast to keep up with Steve’s pace. “Hi,” Daisy mumbled. Steve glanced up, slowing considerably to a pace she could keep with ease (he didn’t even notice how fast he walked by himself now, thanks to the serum). “Mind if I walk with you? Ma’s not ready to leave and I can’t stay inside anymore.”

 

“Daisy, it’s fine,” Steve said softly. He glanced at the coat she was wearing, a red peacoat Steve had never seen before. “Are you warm enough?”

 

The teen nodded and sniffled. The walked in silence for a few blocks until Daisy took in a deep breath and asked, “How’d it happen?” 

 

Steve tensed with a sharp intake of breath. “Daisy, I-”

 

“Steve,” she grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop, “I’m not some child. I know this is hard for you, too. And I’m assuming you were there when it happened. I just want to know how. Please?” 

 

The captain squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears away. “We were on a mission,” he started softly, “and I can’t tell you why or where or what was going on. But Bucky and I were on a train in the mountains and something happened that caused a hole in the wall. Bucky, being the stupid jerk he is, tried to protect me by taking on the situation. He ended up being flung out the train,” his voice grew tight as flinched from the horrific images that haunted him, “and-and-”

 

Daisy bit her lip. “He fell didn’t he?” Steve nodded and turned away from her. “Was he?”

 

“I don’t know,” Steve croaked. “We couldn’t find him.” He didn’t mention all the blood they saw or the fact he found his dog tags and ring surrounded by dog prints. “Daisy,” he pleaded, “you have to know I did everything I could. I tried to catch him, I really did. I spent days searching, as much as I could before they sent me here, but I couldn’t- He wasn’t- I didn’t-” 

 

Daisy tackled him in a hug, squeezing around his waist as tight as he could. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for trying. The army wouldn’t have done anything, not to the extent you went. Just,” she took a shaky breath, “thank you.” 

 

They walked on after Daisy let him go, heading towards the cemetery in silence. Neither of them commented on the other’s sniffling or how every few steps Steve would wipe at his eyes and Daisy would let out sad little noises. 

 

The service itself was lovely. A couple of Bucky’s friends from the docks that didn’t get enlisted, a few of his exes, all of his relatives that weren’t overseas, and, of course, anyone in the neighborhood who knew him came to show their respects. A headstone would be placed in the next few days, but until then families and relatives, upon Winifred and George’s request, were burying letters written to Bucky. 

 

Steve watched as Winifred clung to George, her cries loud and echoey and completely heartbreaking. People all around them were giving her sympathetic glances through their own sniffles and tears. And then there was Steve, who hung back and kept his face completely neutral. Only Daisy seemed to notice he was hurting. 

 

The youngest Barnes child held Steve’s hand, squeezing it tight whenever she thought he needed it or she felt her own tears become too much. Towards the end, when George was delivering a heartfelt, mournful speech about how incredible Bucky was, Steve tugged Daisy close to him, slinging an arm around her shoulder. He bent slightly, planting a kiss on top of her head and whispering, “We’re gonna be okay.” And when Daisy fell apart, Steve held her close, rocking her back and forth just like he did when Bucky would wake up from a nightmare. . .

 

The service ended soon after each family member said a few short words and began to throw their letters into the empty casket . George had asked Steve if he wanted to say a few words, but the soldier had refused. Instead, he simply dropped in a thick envelope filled with everything he had wanted to say and a few of Bucky’s favorite sketches (he had spent several sleepless nights going through and duplicating the sketches for himself). 

 

_ Dear Bucky,  _

 

_ Hi. _

 

_ There’s a lot I want to write out. A lot I want to say. But I only have a few pages of paper left and I want to get something down before the morning comes around. So I’m sorry if I’m rambling a little or if it doesn’t make any sense.  _

 

_ You always liked when I rambled, whether I was talking about art class or about the newest record I heard on the radio. I’ve always been insecure about it, but you made it something to be cherished and adored. You did that with just about everything I hate about myself, before and after the serum. You’ve always made me feel like a better person. _

 

_ I’ve been sitting here for days, Buck. Constantly blaming myself for not doing more to stop you from falling. Hell, I can’t stop thinking about you, not that that’s new or anything. _

 

_ Was I as good of a friend as you were to me? Did I love you enough? Did I show you how much you mean to me? How incredible you are? Did you feel loved? Wanted? Happy?  _

 

_ I hope that’s the one mission I didn’t fail. Making you feel happy and loved was always a favorite of mine, even if we fought like cats and dogs some days.  _

 

_ You know I love you with all my heart, right? I’d give anything to have you back with me right now, even if it was just to say goodbye. Although, if I got you back I don’t think I could lose you again.  _

 

_ I feel like there was so much to be said. So much I can say that I’ll regret not telling you later.  _

 

_ I miss you so much, baby. I miss you more than I ever thought was possible. Fuck, it hurts not having you here with me. Not being able to see you or be near you in some form or fashion. _

 

_ And it really hurts having to hide how much pain I’m in.  _

 

_ I can’t sleep, Buck. I can’t eat. I can’t think. I can’t function knowing that you’re not here and I’ll never get to tell you I love you for the last time.  _

 

_ Goddammit, Bucky. Come back to me. Come home. Please. I just need to see you one last time, to say goodbye, to tell you how much I love you, how much you mean to me, how much I care. Please, come home. I promise I’ll do you right. I’ll keep you safe, I’ll protect you like I should have done in the first place. _

 

_ Please, come home.  _

 

_ This wasn’t supposed to be the end of the line, James. It wasn’t and you know it. We were supposed to finish this war together, side by side, and come home to your family. We were supposed to grow old together, with our separate families living close by and spending half our time together like usual. We had plans, Bucky, plans for the future. _

 

_ Fuck, Bucky, you promised you’d take me to the future and I fucking blew it. _

 

_ You’re gone because of me. You’re gone because I was reckless and let myself fall in a daze when we were in the middle of that fight. You’re gone because I don’t know when to stop. _

 

_ Part of me hopes this pain never leaves, just so I have a constant reminder of how I failed you.  _

 

_ Part of me thinks this was some cruel joke the universe played on us for getting married.  _

 

_ What I’d give to hear you call me ‘babydoll’ one more time or moan my name in my ear. To feel your hands on my chest and your lips on my neck. To hear you giggle when my stubble tickles you or when my fingertips ghost your skin. To see you smile up at me, your eyes big and wide and filled with all the wonders this world has to offer plus some.  _

 

_ I just want to hear you go on about the latest science fiction novel you read. Or gush over the newest Stark gadget you got a sneak peek at. Or rant about how things weren’t fair with how we’re treated over here or how Brandt treated me.  _

 

_ I just want to see smile one more time. To see you give me that smirk when you’re flirting with some dame at a bar. To see you wink at me as if we weren’t risking our lives enough.  _

 

_ What I’d give to hold you close. I just want to wrap my arms around you and hold you forever. I want to fall asleep next to you and kiss the back of your neck as I curl up close to you.  _

 

_ I want you here.  _

 

_ Please come home. Come back to me. Just for a moment, one more sweet, incredible moment. Please, Bucky? _

 

_ I love you so much. I really do, with all my heart.  _

 

_ Till the end of the line, baby.  _

 

_ With all my love forever and ever,  _

 

_ your husband,  _

 

_ Steve xxxx _

 

Steve glanced over to the empty plot beside him, and the plot on the other side. There, Sarah Rogers lay, with a plot Steve had bought only a few months after Sarah’s passing between her and Bucky. ‘ _ One day _ ,’ he thought, ‘ _ I’ll be with you two. I’ll be back home in your arms and nothing bad could happen. One day. _ ’ 

 

He walked over to his mother’s grave and ran a finger along the headstone. “Take care of him, yeah?” 

 

Tomorrow he’d leave for the war again. Tomorrow he’d say goodbye to the Barnes and apologize again for everything that’s happened. Tomorrow he’d start the process of ridding the world of Hydra for good. But today was not tomorrow. 

 

With that, he walked away from the service, from the Barnes, from Brooklyn, and made his way home.  

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Steve tipped back the bottle, chugging the liquor in one gulp. It burned, fogging his mind long enough for the alcohol to settle in his stomach. He closed his eyes, embracing the lapse in clarity for just a moment, only for the effect to pass. He cursed, slamming the bottle on the table with enough force to shatter it. 

 

A couple patrons jumped, looking over with wide, intrigued eyes at the sound of the . “Why are people so nosy?” a sweet voice practically sang. Peggy sat beside him, sweeping at the shards of glass with a delicately gloved hand. “People like that disgust me,” she sighed. 

 

“Agreed,” Gabe piped up from Steve’s left. “But Steve, you can’t just break these bottles whenever you finish them.” 

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “I know. I didn’t exactly mean to break it,” he grumbled. 

 

Peggy placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder and squeezed. “We know, Steven.” Gabe flagged the bartender down and ordered another bottle. “Is there really a point in drowning yourself-”

 

“Just because it doesn’t last long, doesn’t mean it doesn’t work at all.” Steve leaned forward and started to pick the shards of glass out of his palm. 

 

She sighed. “Steven, this isn’t healthy. Every time I see you nowadays you’ve got a bottle of liquor in your hand or you’re pouring over maps and missions. James wouldn’t want you to behave this way and I think you know that.” Peggy put her hand on Steve’s, helping pluck the shards out. “Now, love, can we take a walk? I’d like to talk to you in private.” 

 

Steve stood up abruptly, his hand still in Peggy’s, and dusted his clothes of the glass shards. “After you,” he mumbled as he helped her off the barstool.

 

Peggy gave him a soft smile. “We’ll be back,” she called to Gabe and Dernier from over her shoulder. She guided Steve out the bar and onto the busy sidewalks of London. 

 

“Is everything okay?” Steve asked, putting on a brave face.

 

She shook her head, her curls bouncing from beneath her hat. “No, things are not okay. We’re in the middle of a war and my best soldier is going through a particularly difficult time. I don’t think things will be okay in quite some time.” She took Steve’s arm, her heels clicking along the pavement. 

 

Steve’s head fell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

 

“Don’t get me wrong,” she continued, “you’ve been doing an incredible job taking down these Hydra bases by yourself these past few weeks. But the sad truth is simple, it’s not healthy. You’ve been reckless lately, more than usual. I don’t want you to do anything he’ll disapprove of, because if there’s one thing James and I agreed on, it was your safety.” Peggy squeezed his bicep and sighed. “I worry about you, Steven. I really do.” 

 

“I’m fine, Peggy,” Steve mumbled halfheartedly. She raised an eyebrow at him, her pretty red lips pursed. The captain glanced over at her, guilt written on his face. “Okay, okay. So I’m not,” he sighed, “I’m not okay. It hurts and I can’t risk losing someone else. S’why I’ve been taking the brunt of the missions.” 

 

Peggy nodded. “I had a feeling that was why you were acting this way. You made a valiant effort, but you can’t stop these kind of things from happening. I think James would agree with me-”

 

Steve stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Peggy, as much as I love that you’re trying to make me feel better, can we not talk about him?” 

 

The brunette was taken aback. But her expression quickly shifted to defensive as she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “And why not? You do realize we all lost a good friend, Steven. You’re not the only one who’s hurting.”

 

Guilt punched Steve in the stomach, causing that dark hole he’d been fighting in his chest to seemingly expand. “You’re right,” he offered weakly, “I’m sorry.” 

 

Her face softened as she touched his arm again. “I know this is harder on you than the others, but you-”

 

“No, Peggy, you don’t,” Steve said before he could stop himself. “You don’t understand the situation as much as you’d like. I just lost the one person who always had my back, even when I didn’t look like this. He was the only person who didn’t see some scrawny kid that needed a helping hand just about everyday. He was the only person who didn’t care whether or not I could keep up with their speed, instead he’d go down to my pace without making a big deal of it. He understood what I needed in ways no one, not even my mother, knew. I just lost my best friend and- and my,” Steve choked up as he turned away, his knuckle between his teeth.

 

Peggy sighed. “I do understand, Steven-”

 

Steve rolled his eyes, grabbed her hand as delicately as he could manage (or he thought he did), and dragged her into the alley where they weren’t in danger of being overheard. “You don’t,” he snapped. “You don’t understand. Peggy, he was-” Steve dropped her hand and tugged at his hair in frustration. 

 

“Just say it. This little act is childish and I don’t particularly care for it.” She crossed her arms again. “I’m just trying to be there for you and you keep pushing me away. Please,” she begged, “help me understand if you are so adamant that I don’t understand.” 

 

The blond huffed and paced the space in front of her, still tugging at his hair. “Peggy, I,” he started again as he stopped in front of her. Peggy’s heart broke at the vulnerability shown in his face, how much his eyes gleamed with pain, and how broken he let himself look after weeks of keeping it together. “Peggy, what I’m about to tell you, you can’t tell anyone.” 

 

And then it dawned on her.

 

Her eyes widened as a small gasp passed her ruby lips. “You’re. . ?”

 

“Queer?” Steve offered, embarrassed and ashamed. “I’m not quite sure. I, um, still find women attractive, but. . .” He shrugged, not meeting her eyes.

 

Peggy nodded, completely blindsided. “And you and James were. . ?” Steve nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Did you. . ?” 

 

Steve’s brows furrowed. “Did I what?”

 

“Love him,” Peggy supplied.

 

“I did,” Steve said in a sturdy voice, without a single hesitation. “I still do. Peggy, you have to understand that I couldn’t help it. Maybe it was my fault for clinging to him when we were kids and it just happened or maybe it was some complex I developed after years of rejection, but-”

 

She sighed and took his face in her hands. His tears touched her thumbs, puddling in the crease that she had made between his cheek and her fingers. “It’s okay. I get it. You can’t help who you fall for.” 

 

The way Steve’s face fell, she knew he had heard how disappointed she was. “That doesn’t mean my feelings for you weren’t real. You know that, don’t you?”

 

“I’m not sure what I know at the moment. The only thing I do know is that you’re hurting more than you let on and that James most definitely wouldn’t have wanted you to keep it to yourself. So you and I are going to return to the bar, say goodbye to your friends, and we will go to my apartment and have a nice, long, truthful conversation. And you are going to tell me everything.”

 

Steve bit his lip. “Everything?” 

 

“Everything.”

 

By the time they got to Peggy’s apartment, Steve’s nerves and anxiety had started to vanish. “Make yourself at home. I apologize for the mess, I haven’t had much time to clean with everything going on.” 

 

Steve glanced around at the practically spotless apartment. It was small and neat, with a little kitchenette on one side and a sleek looking living area with a wall filled with books, records, pictures, and awards from Peggy’s lifetime. The only imperfections Steve noticed was the thin layer of dust along the bookshelves and the clutter of papers along the coffee table. “You should see my apartment back in Brooklyn if you think this is messy.” 

 

That got a small smile out of her as she glided across the room to put a record on. “You don’t strike me as a messy person. I’ve seen your tent and dressing room before. I doubt your living conditions are too atrocious.”

 

“I haven’t cleaned it properly since before I left,” he admitted. “The army’s the reason I keep my spaces so clean nowadays. Before?” He let out a low whistle. “You could barely see any surfaces in my bedroom and the counters in the kitchen were always covered in pots and pans. Bucky and I were awful at keeping the place clean,” he chuckled.

 

Peggy paused for a moment before she carefully sat down on one end of her pristine couch. “You and James lived together?”

 

Steve blushed. “Uh, yeah. We’ve pretty much lived together since 1930 when his family moved in with my mother and I. And when they moved into the apartment above us, we still stayed with each other. When my mother passed in ‘36, we officially moved in together.” Steve shook his head as he sat down on the opposite end of the couch. “That was almost ten years ago,” he whispered. Steve cleared his throat and sat up a bit straighter, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “How do you want to. . ?”

 

“Is it okay if I just start asking you questions?” 

 

“Go ahead.”

 

“How did you two meet?”

 

“On the playground when I was in the first grade. Been inseparable ever since.”   
  


“When did you start to look at him as anything more?” 

 

“I’m not really sure. Maybe when we were in junior high? I think that’s when we both started to see things in a different light, but neither of us acted on it until ‘35.”

 

“How did that happen?” 

 

Steve blushed and looked away. For a moment, he felt like he was a prisoner of war being interrogated by the lovely Agent Carter. She stayed completely still, with her legs cross and her hands folded on her knee, and her voice was consistently steady and elegant as she asked question after question. Yet, here was Steve with his stumbling and mumbling and the blush he could feel all the way down his stomach. “I was in the hospital from an asthma attack and it scared him, ‘specially ‘cause he was out and such. He burst into the room and scolded me for not taking care of myself. And the next thing I know, he’s telling me he loves me.” 

 

Peggy nodded, her lips pursed. “You’ve been together for ten years?”

 

“Technically. We took a year off, so I guess it’d be nine years.”

 

“Why?”

 

“The war. The night before he got shipped out, he broke up with me. Thought I could move on and be normal for a chance.” Steve picked at his fingernails. “He didn’t tell me that, of course, and I didn’t get the chance to tell him about Project Rebirth. Spent the next year being Captain America and dealing with the war. It wasn’t until last summer that we got back together once we both got our heads out of our asses.” 

 

Peggy looked away. “Was it real?”

 

“Pardon?” Steve glanced up at her like a confused puppy, with his head tilted, his eyebrows furrowed and his bottom lip jutting out just enough for a proper pout. 

 

“Was the connection you and I shared, or I thought we shared, real?”

 

Steve nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. Peggy, I would never lead you on. S’why I pulled away from you a little after we returned from New York. But just because I was with Bucky doesn’t mean I never liked you.” 

 

Peggy nodded again. “I see. So the flirting and the glances, those were real? You weren’t just putting on a show for the world to see?”

 

“No ma’am. I couldn’t use you like that.” Steve looked away and tugged at his hair again. “But, I, uh, didn’t deny that we had a thing after Bucky and I got together. I’m sorry.”

 

She waved him off. “We can’t change the past, no need to apologize. I see where you’re coming from, Steven. And as long as you promise me you weren’t just toying with my heart like some random soldier would, then I can’t possibly be mad at you.” 

 

“I promise, Peggy. It wasn’t a joke or an illusion. I really did like you, still do to an extent. It’s just,” Steve’s eyes were a bit watery as he spoke. 

 

Peggy reached forward and patted his shoulder. “You love him. I understand.” She leaned forward and pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek. 

 

Steve blushed despite his watery eyes. “Thank you,” he breathed. 

  
She gave him a soft smile and laid her head on his shoulder. “Can I continue asking questions or was that too much?”

 

He cleared his throat. “You can keep going,” he mumbled, but he didn’t sound so sure. 

 

“Alright then,” she paused for a moment, “who else do you find attractive out of the Commandos?” 

 

Steve chuckled, more vibrations than sound, and thought for a long moment. “Gabe. He’s got a nice build and a good personality. Helps that he speaks French.”

 

“I’d have to agree myself. French has always been such an elegant language, very romantic.” Peggy giggled softly. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and held her tight, his breathing getting a little shaky. “Steven, now that I know your secret, I’d like you to know that you can tell me anything and it shall stay with me.” 

 

He pressed a kiss to her hair. “Thank you, Peggy. Means a lot to me.”

 

They laid together on the couch for a long time, letting the hours pass by in silence. It wasn’t until Peggy was almost asleep, her head on Steve’s chest, that Steve spoke up again. His voice, quiet and slurred with exhaustion, broke the silence. “You know you’ll always be my best girl, right? And one day, maybe when the war’s over, we can try this for real.”

 

She sat up a little and gave him a soft smile. “I’d like that a lot, Steve. But only,” she bit her lip, “if you think James would approve of me taking his boyfriend.” 

 

Steve blushed. “Husband,” he corrected. Peggy’s eyebrows rose a good inch, her face soft with surprise and confusion. “We had a ceremony and rings and everything. Just not legal.” He sighed and gave her a soft smile in return. “But, Bucky always said he thought you were a good match for you. I think he’d approve.” 

 

“Then that’s settled.” She leaned forward to kiss his cheek again. “Goodnight, Steven.” 

 

“Goodnight, Peggy.”

 

Within the next few weeks, Steve began to depend heavily on Peggy. She did her best to help him through it, falling for the captain with each small smile and light touch they gave each other. Steve, despite how hard he was grieving and how much pain and guilt he felt constantly, was trying to give her something to hold onto. He made sure to tell her at least once a day that one day he’d be able to move on completely, like Bucky would have wanted, and they can be together. 

 

And slowly, as he spent more and more time with her, he started to notice all of the things she did that reminded him of Bucky. And he found himself falling for her in a new, undiscovered way that was entirely different from his feelings for Bucky, but feelings nonetheless. 

 

That didn’t stop him from crying himself to sleep or talking to Bucky whenever he was alone in his office, usually about his day or trying to get his opinion on a mission he was planning. It didn’t stop him from praying to whoever would listen to bring Bucky back. 

 

And it didn’t stop him from recklessly throwing himself into his work. 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

Steve’s head was reeling as he scrambled to take control of the plane. Whatever he just witnessed left him with endless questions.  _ What exactly was the tesseract? What was it made of that disintegrated Schmidt? What was that portal thing? What was the blast? Why hadn’t it killed him? Or taken the plane down completely? Why had it just targeted Schmidt?  _ His head hurt from trying to understand it all in such little time and the mental effort it took for him to stay one step ahead.

 

His hands shook as he grabbed the controls. He had a decision to make and he needed to figure it out quickly. 

 

_ Alright Rogers, analyze the situation. You’re stuck in a plane by yourself with a giant hole in the roof and a half dozen bombs in the back. You’re flying over the ocean and you’re heading towards the States. You’ve never flown a plane before and you sure as hell haven’t landed one. You’re surrounded by a bunch of buttons, switches, and gauges that you aren’t even sure are working, much less what they’re for. So, Captain, what’s the game plan?  _

 

_ You’ve got three basic options. 1) You can try and get in touch with base and see if you can’t land the plane, but then you risk the bombs going off upon contact. Wouldn’t want innocent lives in danger if the best place to and was near civilians or even a base. 2) You can abandon the plane and try to rig the bombs to detonate in the air. Then jump before the plane gets blown to pieces. 3) You can put it in the water. It’d be a suicide mission, but at least the bombs wouldn’t go off around people or reach their intended destinations, and the plane wasn’t going to crash into a town. Not the best option for you, per say, but the it just might be the best for the situation.  _

 

_ Now, all you have to do is figure out which you think is the right choice in a matter of three seconds. And you still need to see if you can’t find the base on the radio. _

 

Steve fumbled with the controls on what he assumed was the radio. The static was muffled by the sound of the wind from the gaping hole in the roof behind him, but he tried to find the right radio station anyways. “Come in. This is Captain Rogers, do you read me?” 

 

Thankfully, the sound of Morita’s voice crackled over the speakers. “Captain Rogers, what is your loc-”

 

Peggy’s frantic voice cut in, “Steve, is that you? Are you alright?”

 

Steve’s heart swelled with relief. “Peggy! Schmidt’s dead!” He hollered, fumbling with more controls to try and stabilize the plane. 

 

“What about the plane?” 

 

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it; fumbling with the right words to explain the situation. “That’s a little bit tougher to explain,” he called after a beat of silence.  

 

“Give me your coordinates. I’ll find you a safe landing site.” Even over the radio, Steve could hear the slight tremble in her words. Part of him wanted to reevaluate the situation, but the other half knew he’d only come back to his original plan.

 

He glanced down at the plane diagram. “There’s not going to be a safe landing, but I can try and force it down.” 

 

“I-I’ll get Howard on the line, he’ll know what to do.” Steve closed his eyes for a split second, guilt washing over him. 

 

“There’s not enough time,” Steve told her, “this thing’s moving fast and it’s headed for New York.” He stared out into the endless horizon of clouds and blue skies.  _ Steve, you have to remind yourself that Erskine picked you because of your instinct. He thought of you as a man who knew when to back down and when to take the extra precautionary step. Go with your gut.  _ “I gotta put her in the water,” he concluded.

 

Peggy pleaded, “Please, don’t do this. We have time. We can work it out.” 

 

“Right now, I’m in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer, a lot of people are going to die.” With his mind made up, Steve felt the waves of anxiety and fear wash over him. However, he wasn’t about to back down. He tightened his grip on the yoke and took a deep breath. “Peggy,” he started. Another deep breath. “This is my choice.” 

 

He waited for a second, letting the finality of his words seep in. He was doing this, whether he survived or not. Steve let go of the wheel and reached into his right pocket where Bucky’s dog tags and ring were curled in. He reached down and stuffed the chain into his boot, tightening his laces and wrapping his toes around the chain. At least he wouldn’t part with it. Then he reached into his left pocket and pulled out his compass, the one where Peggy’s beautiful face stared at him whenever he opened it. He carefully sat it up, opened, onto one of the gauges. 

 

_ This is it. You can do this, Steve. If you don’t, you’ll have thousands of lives hanging over your head. This is for the best. Hopefully, Peggy will see that one day.  _

 

With that, he pushed the yoke forward and the nose of the aircraft dipped. 

 

Steve was shaking, his heart thrumming against his chest harder and louder than ever before. He was terrified as he glanced from Peggy’s picture to the sky in front of him, the clouds parting enough to show the ice blue water below. “Peggy,” he tried his best to keep his voice even and steady, “I’m going to need a raincheck on that dance.”

 

“Alright,” he could hear the tears in her voice, “a week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club.”

 

_ Thank God, she understood. Just keep talking to her, Steve. It’ll be over soon. Just keep talking to Pegs. _ “You got it,” he told her. The plane was heading straight for a blanket of ice, thin and brittle looking even from his rapidly descending altitude. 

 

“Eight o’clock on the dot. Don’t be late. Understood?”

 

It was becoming harder to mask his fear as he said, “You know, I still don’t know how to dance.” He was practically panting, his chest already constricting with his increasing anxiety. The air was thinner, the oxygen in the room already low and now it seemed to disappear entirely.

 

Steve could hear Peggy take a deep breath, shaky and filled with impending tears. “I’ll show you how,” she told him, her voice sweet and comforting. “Just be there.”

 

He was closer, almost reaching the ice. _ God, you’re an idiot Steve! A reckless, suicidal idiot! When Dr. Erskine gave you this serum, he didn’t mean to go and do something like this! But it’s too late now. There’s no turning back.  _ Steve was breathing harder as he struggled to get out the words, “We’ll have the band play something slow.” This is it. Just keep talking, you can do this. “I’d hate to step on your-” the plane crashed into the ice, sending freezing water splashing through the already broken windshield “-toes,” he gasped out. 

 

Steve swallowed a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut as the plane’s momentum sent the aircraft deeper into the ice. The cab filled with water, surrounding Steve instantly. He struggled to get out, trying to break the seatbelt latch without opening his eyes or letting out his air supply too quickly. 

 

But it was no use, his exhaled sooner than he intended. He was practically wheezing, just like he used to when the asthma was rough, and his chest was clenched with anxiety. 

 

The water was rising rapidly, quickly reaching his shoulders and completely submerging him into the ice. He gasped, trying to get as much air as he could in as little time as he had. The plane was still moving, sliding across the ice and plunging further into the water. 

 

He was freezing, shaking violently as he did his best to get out of his confides. His eyes shot open, blinking against the icy water that had splashed his face. He scanned for an exit, anything he could do to save himself. 

 

By the time he figured out a plan, it was too late and he was still stuck in his seat. The water was up to his chin now, dangerously close to filling his airways. He sealed his mouth shut, squeezed his eyes closed again, and thrashed against the seat. Steve’s arms were weak and his legs weaker, his limbs too busy shivering. 

 

_ It’s so cold and wet. _

 

Steve was submerged at once, the plane shifting one final time deeper into the water. It didn’t take long for the water to infiltrate his body through his nostrils, filling his labored lungs with water. He sputtered a bit at the sensation, only letting more water in. 

 

_ Why does it have to be so cold?  _

 

His body started to move slower in the water, his suit weighing him down. 

 

_ This is for the best, Rogers.  _

 

He opened his eyes for a moment, but his vision was darkening with each passing second. 

 

_ Shouldn’t the serum be working against this?  _

 

It felt like ages. Steve struggling to free himself, the water quickly taking over his body and keeping him prisoner. But in reality, it was only minutes.

 

_ You did good, Captain. You did good. _

 

Steve gave one final push against the belt before he was surrounded in darkness. 

 

For once, he let the freedom of unconsciousness envelope him with welcomed arms. 

#  ~*~*~*~*~

It’d been weeks since Steve had disappeared. They had announced his disappearance to the world the next day and the army searched for a good three weeks before they gave up. Howard Stark, however, had not. While he wasn’t close with Steve, the captain had been a good friend and they worked well together, even if Steve was a little slow in the science department (and social interactions, but Howard wasn’t sure if that was him or his life experience). He was a fast learner and a strong worker and that’s why Howard became friends with the man (and, as he came to realize, it was hard not to be friends with him). So he kept searching, personally scouring the ocean near the Valkyrie's last known coordinates. 

 

However, after two months, Howard returned home to New York. And with him, was a present for a special little girl. 

 

The engineer traveled the streets of Brooklyn with Agent Carter sitting on the other side of the bench in the back of his car. Between them sat an old trunk, filled to the brim with all of Steve’s most private possessions, and in turn, Bucky’s. Peggy had told Howard everything about Steve’s private life once the first search was complete. (“Steve’s life needs to be kept a secret, Howard. You’re the only one who I trust that I know can keep these things private,” she had told him quietly. “Can I count on you?” “Absolutely! What was our patriotic captain hiding from the world? Drugs? Murder? A lover?” “You could say that.”) Now, after the more sensitive artifacts locked away in Howard’s personal home, they were on their way to deliver the rest to the rightful owner. 

 

Daisy Barnes.

 

“Do you think Barnes’ family will accept that Daisy’s the only person mentioned on Steve’s will? I mean, besides Barnes himself, but that’s a lost cause,” Howard rambled as they neared the building. 

 

Peggy sighed and picked at the hem of her skirt. “Steve said it was Daisy’s choice what the Barnes family could have. He thought her judgement would be clear and wise in this situation. And given that she’s known for years about his secret, I think she’ll make the right choice.” 

 

Howard nodded. “Well I suppose we’ll just have to see.” 

 

Daisy was actually on the steps of the building when they pulled up. She was sitting with three other girls, all dressed in oversized flannels and baggy pants with cigarettes hanging from their fingers. With just one look, Howard knew the brunette was Bucky’s baby sister especially as they got closer. They had the same smile, the same eyes (both just a little haunted and gray), and the same dark, thick brown hair. 

 

But just to be sure, he asked for her by name. 

 

The teen raised an eyebrow, her eyes squinting up at him skeptically. “That’s me.”

 

“Hey,” a blonde girl said from Daisy’s left, “aren’t you that Stark fellow?”

 

Howard preened and winked. “That’d be me alright.” 

 

Peggy rolled her eyes and stepped in front of the engineer, blocking the view of the box he was carrying. “Daisy, my name is Agent Peggy Carter. I was friends with James and Steven. Is there any way we could speak to you in private?” 

 

Daisy’s eyes widened. “Uh, okay? My parents aren’t home, but I don’t think they’ll mind much.” She snubbed her cigarette and wished her friends a farewell before she showed the two into the building. They climbed the stairs in silence until Daisy paused by a door on the third floor. “This is where Steve and his mom used to live before she passed,” she said quietly.

 

“Do you have a lot of memories there?” Peggy asked softly, a comforting hand on her shoulder.

 

“Sort of. I was born in his mom’s room when we lived with them. So I guess you could say I have a few memories.” She gave the agent a weak smile before continuing her trek up the stairs. “Make yourselves at home,” she mumbled awkwardly as she opened the door to the apartment. 

 

Howard followed Peggy inside, looking around the humble home with sincere interest. A few pictures of a younger Bucky and Steve with several people Howard didn’t recognize and Daisy mixed in and a few interesting paintings were hung on the wall, a cozy couch with an abundance of thin, worn blankets draped across the back was against one wall and a large bookshelf against another. It was homely and inviting. Howard found himself relaxed as he sat the box down on the small coffee table and took a seat on the couch. 

 

When Peggy and Daisy had made themselves comfortable, Howard motioned to the box. “This,” he opened it up to show the contents, “is all of Steve’s most private belongings. We went through his stuff at his and Bucky’s apartment and took all of the,” he glanced at Peggy, “sensitive items and the more meaningful articles before we gave the go ahead for it to be cleared. Of course, you and the remainder of the Barnes’ family have permission to go through that stuff, see if anything screams important to you.” 

 

“And what’s this stuff?” Daisy pointed to the box.

 

Peggy leaned forward. “These are pieces of Steve’s things, and Bucky’s, that he specifically asked to be given to you. And some of the pieces Howard and I found in their apartment we thought you may want.” 

 

Daisy nodded, but she didn’t make a move. “And what do you mean by ‘sensitive items?’” 

 

Howard glanced at Peggy before he leaned in closer to the teen. “We know about them.” 

 

“What do you mean?” Daisy cocked her head, her eyebrows furrowed. She sounded genuinely confused, but Peggy didn’t seem fazed. 

 

“We know about your brother’s interests and the true nature of his relationship with Steve,” Peggy whispered delicately. 

 

Daisy raised her eyebrows and bit her lip. “And how can I trust that you’ll keep their secret?” 

 

“We’ve already taken the sensitive material and stored it in my private home,” Howard explained. “No one will ever see it, not without your permission.” He took her hand. “You have my word when I say that all Carter and I want is to keep Steve and Bucky’s legacy intact. We don’t want anything to tarnish their memory or ruin their names, especially not something as trivial as who they love.”

 

Peggy nodded, her lips pursed in the slightest. Daisy looked a bit skeptical, but relented nonetheless. “Okay. I believe you. Only,” she held up a finger, “because anyone who Steve and Bucky told must have been a really good friend and someone they could trust.” 

 

“Thank you,” Peggy breathed.

 

Daisy reached forward and took ahold of the box. “Have you guys seen everything in here?” 

 

“For the most part,” Howard gently took out the worn copy of  The Great Gatsby , “but we didn’t snoop too much. Just enough to decide whether or not it needed to be hidden.” The young girl nodded again, quietly sifting through the notebook that contained all of Steve’s sketches he’d given Bucky throughout the years. 

 

Peggy too grabbed a sketchbook of Steve’s, the same one he carried around with him when they first met. She flipped to the page with the dancing monkey and smiled. “He was a truly great artist.” 

 

Daisy smiled softly as she hummed. “He went to art school, ya know. Had to drop out because it got too expensive and he couldn’t work like Bucky could. But he was teaching with one of his professors when Pearl Harbor happened, so I think he found what he liked the most.” She flipped the page and ran her fingers along a drawing of Bucky and herself. “He used to draw me pictures all the time and let me color them in. I think Ma saved them, stored them away for a rainy day or something like that. I always thought he was the best artist in the entire world.” 

 

“What about your brother? What was his hobby?” Peggy inquired.

 

“Boxing, if you can believe it.” She set the box down and stepped towards the bookshelf to grab a picture and a newsclipping of Bucky winning his match. “From what I could tell, he was pretty good. Everyone called him a natural, but he just blamed Steve.”

 

“How come?” Howard asked.

 

Daisy grinned a mischievous smile. “Steve was always getting himself in trouble. He’d be picked on or decide to take a stand and Bucky would have to swoop in to save him.”

 

Peggy smiled a little wider. “I remember the day he got the serum and we were driving down a street here in Brooklyn and every nook and cranny had a different story. All of which, apparently, ended in him getting hurt,” she said fondly. “He told me he didn’t like to run away, because that only encouraged them. If he stood up for himself, then they’d eventually leave him alone.”

 

“Sounds like Stevie, alright!” Daisy giggled and searched through the box again. She pulled out a series of envelopes addressed to ‘Grace Rogers’ and Bucky. She quietly handed them to Howard. “You may want to take those, too. They weren’t as subtle as they thought they were.” 

 

Howard nodded and absentmindedly flipped through the envelopes. “And what about this one?” He plucked an envelope out of the stack with Daisy’s name printed on it in Steve’s “no nonsense” scrawl. She quickly took it from the older man’s hands and delicately ripped it open.

 

_ Dear Daisy, _

 

_ If you’re reading this, then something terrible has happened. I probably died in the war, knowing my luck, and I hope Bucky has died of natural causes after a lovely, fulfilled life.  _

 

_ You’re getting this box of junk because you’re the only person I trust with it.  _

 

_ This is all of my stuff that means the world to me. Like the book I bought Bucky one year and annotated it for him to make it easier to read, or the little sketches I made of him throughout the years. And all of the sketchbooks Bucky bought for me and the letters he wrote, before the war and during. Stuff that if anyone else found, we’d be in deep trouble. _

 

_ Well, probably not since I’m not around and neither is Bucky, but you get the point.  _

 

_ Daisy, you’re our best girl and I hope you know that we love you with all our hearts. You’re like the little sister I never got and never knew I needed. I ever tell you that? I probably should have if I didn’t. At least I’m telling you now?  _

 

_ Listen, I know this is probably hard on you and the rest of the family. You got to stay strong and remember that we’re looking out for you from beyond. Bucky and I both are making sure you’re staying out of trouble and doing the right thing.  _

 

_ You mean the world to me, Daisy. I could never ask for a better friend than you.  _

 

_ I hope you don’t get to see this letter for quite some time, or at all if I’m really lucky. Either way, I want you to know that what happened happened and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. I may be gone, but because of your sweet smile and bright wits, I’ll always be with you. Me and Bucky both.  _

 

_ Take care of yourself, Daisy. We love you with all our hearts. _

 

_ Love you forever, _

 

_ Steven G. Rogers and James B. Barnes xx _

 

Daisy sniffled. “Thank you for bringing me this,” she mumbled. “I’ll take good care of it.” 

 

Howard smiled softly. “Good. We knew you would.” He stood and handed her a card. “This is my number and address. If you ever need anything or want to check in on the sensitive stuff, just call.” 

 

Peggy rose, too. “I’ll be popping in on you from time to time, myself. We both want to make sure you’re safe and content, like Steve and James would have wanted.”

 

“Thank you both.” Daisy stood to hug them both tight. 

 

Howard and Peggy both kept in touch with Daisy throughout the years, and so did the Howling Commandos. Eventually, Daisy told Eugene and Rebecca about their brother’s secret romance, once same-sex relationships wasn’t a crime and things were looking a little brighter. Both were shocked, but not necessarily surprised, and supportive of their late brother, with the only regret that they couldn’t have told him in person. 

 

Daisy held onto Steve and Bucky’s things as tight as she could. She even bought their old apartment off of her parents (who were given the lease once Steve passed) and created a small museum in honor of Captain America. She restored everything to it’s proper condition and even went to school to become a proper historian. 

 

She keeps their story alive and true down to the last detail, with the help of Peggy, Howard, and the Howling Commandos. 

  
If only she knew, this was merely the beginning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, we have officially ended the first story. We'll be posting the epilogue (which is kind of a prologue for Our Now - and will be posted as such on the next story) hopefully within the week. I hope you've enjoyed it!!!
> 
> Don't forget to follow us on tumblr for exclusive content: thesteveandbuckystory.tumblr.com


	20. Epilogue

_ Epilogue _   
  


**2013**

The hospital room was dark and unnerving. Steve didn’t feel safe, not after everything that had happened this past week. His skin crawled with paranoia. He glanced at the lamp on the bedside table, itching to turn it on. But the IV in his arm pulled a little too much and he wasn’t sure if he had the energy to move that much. 

His body ached with every breath, specifically his abdomen. He knew he was healing pretty quickly, but three bullets in the gut were still going to take some time. . . 

He wasn’t sure he if even had enough time to heal properly. He needed to get out, to help take down Hydra and finish this for good. 

Steve really wanted to turn on the damn lamp.

Sam would be back tomorrow morning after his meeting at the VA. Natasha had texted him saying she was booked solid with meetings on Capitol Hill, but she’d try and come over as soon as she could. Even Tony and Bruce had mentioned making a trip down to DC for a weekend to see Steve. 

Part of him was glad he had made new friends in this bizarre era, but part of him just wanted to see Bucky again.

Bucky. . . The Winter Soldier. 

God, he was an idiot. He should have jumped off that train after him, then he would have been able to see that Bucky was okay. They would have been together, bloody and bruised, but together. 

Steve wanted to leave this place. He had work to do. He needed to find Bucky and rid the world of Hydra again. 

If only he wasn’t so exhausted. 

Steve tried to get comfortable without moving his body too much. He pushed his head back into the pillows and carefully wrapped the threadbare blankets around him even tighter. The chill in the hospital was almost too much. . .

The door creaked open and a body slinked into the room. They shut the door again and Steve could hear the click of a lock. Steve squinted, trying to see the figure from his permanent station on the bed. Usually, the nurses flip the light on. . .

“How are you?” Steve ordered, already trying to sit up. An unintentional hiss of pain slipped as he tugged on his abdomen a bit too much.

Steve watched as the body tensed in the doorway. “Are you gonna come in or not?” He tried to keep his voice stern, but a bit calmer.

The person turned started for the door.

Steve sighed. “Can you at least come turn this lamp on?” The person paused and Steve noticed that they had a hood on over a baseball cap. “Please?”

The person walked towards Steve cautiously. He moved quietly, his feet not making a sound. He raised a hand and shifted his body so he was facing Steve. 

The lamp came on with a click and the room brightened up in an almost warm glow.

And the man’s face was revealed.

“Bucky,” Steve gasped. The man grimaced and moved away quickly. Steve reached out and grabbed his wrist, his right wrist. “Wait, please,” Steve practically whined. “You came here for a reason, why?”

Bucky paused, the tension in his shoulders obvious. “I don’t know.”

“Then will you tell me why you helped me? Why’d you save me?” Steve blinked away the tears that had welled up in his eyes, the heart monitor beeping a little faster.

“I don’t know.”

“Bucky-”

“That’s not my name,” the man snapped. He turned on Steve, his face dark from the shadows the lamp had cast.

Steve let his wrist go and held up both of his hands in surrender. “Okay. What would you like to be called, then?”

The man (Steve didn’t like referring to him as “the man,” but without a name for him, Steve didn’t know what else to call him. If he didn’t want to be called Bucky, then Steve wouldn’t call him that. Anything to keep him here. . .) faltered. “I don’t know,” he answered weakly.

Steve nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Okay. That’s okay. Is there something you need? Did you want something? Is there something I can do?”

The man’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his lips pursing just a little. Steve’s chest ached as he pictured a teenage Bucky doubled over his math homework, a pencil tapping against his temple. He shook it off and sat up a little, wary of the pain in his abdomen. Apparently, his face hadn’t hidden his pain as well as he’d hoped. “Did I,” the man trailed off.

“It’s okay,” Steve started. “I’ll be fine.”

“But did I hurt you?” There was an edge to his voice that Steve couldn’t exactly decipher.

Steve hesitated. “Yes,” he mumbled. “But I heal real quick. I’ll be out of here tomorrow morning!”

The man’s head fell, shame written as plain as day on his features. “How can I,” he held his hands up and made a weird motion as though he wasn’t quite sure what to do.

Steve bit down a smile. “Would you mind grabbing another blanket for me? They left some on the table over there.” The man turned and grabbed another thin blanket, draping the somewhat soft material over the heaps of blankets already on Steve’s lap. “I don’t do so well with the cold anymore.”

“Did I,” the man started again.

The captain shook his head. “No, I did that to myself.” He settled into the warmth nicely, content with the blankets.

The man nodded absentmindedly.

Steve cleared his throat and pointed to a satchel in the chair beside the bed. “Can you grab that bag for me? I think I may have something for you.” The man’s eyebrows knitted together again, but he grabbed the bag anyway. Steve dug through the contents and plucked a worn journal out. He flipped through it and ripped out a few pages, folding them and stuffing them back into the bag. “This,” he showed the man the journal, “is something I wrote after our first encounter.”

“The first mission? On the roof?”

He shook his head. “No, the highway. When I realized who you were,” Steve clarified. He cleared his throat again. The man grabbed a glass of water from the table and cautiously offered it to the captain. Steve smiled and took the water graciously. “Thank you,” he mumbled. “Anyways, I wrote down as much as I could remember from back in the day. It’s certainly not everything, but it could help you jog your memory.” He handed the journal to the man. “Take it. Read it. Keep it.”

The man flipped the journal over and over in his hands. “I-”

Steve shook his head. “Don’t say anything. I want you to have this. Even if it doesn’t help much or. . . or I never see you again, it’ll give me peace of mind to know I helped you in some way.” The man nodded and started towards the door. “You’re leaving?”

He paused and turned back around, confused. “Am I supposed to stay?”

“You can.” Steve bit his lip. “I’d like you to.”

The man shook his head. “Not safe. They’ll find me. Have to keep moving.” He started for the door again.

“Wait-” Steve shot up, groaning in the process. The man hurried over to his side and helped him lay back down with gentle hands. Once Steve was curled back up against the pillows and snuggled into his blankets, the man jumped back as if he hadn’t realized what he did. He cowered from Steve a little, more inwardly than anything. Steve’s heart broke. . . Someone hurt his best friend to the point he wasn’t himself anymore. . .  He spoke softly as if he were speaking to a scared animal, “I won’t stop you from leaving. Not if that’s what  _ you _ really want to do.” Steve paused to let the man talk, but all he got was a wide-eyed, terrified look instead. So he continued, “But I’d like to see you again one day. And just know that I’ll never stop looking for you. Because one day, you’ll remember. I just know you will. And when that day comes, I want to be there. However long it takes.” The man eased a little, but he stayed as still as he could. “Take as long as you need. You’ll know where to find me, I’m sure.” Steve gave a sad, pathetic chuckle as he blinked the tears out of his eyes again. “Just promise me one thing,” he looked up at the man, “take care of yourself. Okay?”

He didn’t stop the man from leaving after that.

A nurse came in and gave him another dose of medication, enough to knock him out. When he came to, Sam was sitting beside him again like he had every day since the Potomac.

It was as if it the meeting was all a dream, but Steve knew better. He knew his Bucky (wait, he didn’t want to be called Bucky anymore. . .) had been there.

And all that was left were the torn pages of the journal. Where all of Steve’s favorite memories that involved his romantic relationship with Bucky lay.

One day, Steve would give these to him.

One day, he may go by Bucky once again.

One day, things would be back to normal and they’d be Steve and Bucky once more. 

 

One day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is also a prologue to the next book, Our Now. I'll be posting this as such in a new work of that title so you can go ahead and subscribe to it. I can't wait to tackle this next story with you all! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, commenting, and giving kudos and bookmarks. It's very much appreciated!!! 
> 
> Follow us at thesteveandbuckystory.tumblr.com for more one-shots set in the 1900s.


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